


Beautiful and Deadly

by reona32



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Fantasy, M/M, Priest!Steve, Vampires, Violence, falling in love with a monster, including however many Marvel characters I can fit, vampire!Tony, working fast and loose with folklore and legends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:45:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reona32/pseuds/reona32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Manhattan is a vampire free city in a kingdom plagued by the feral, bloodthirsty monsters. Hunters roamed the York Plains, killing as many of the deadly and crazed creatures as they could. But one night the priest of a small parish finds a badly injured man collapsed on the altar steps while nightmarish hounds circle the church. </p><p>Everything Steve Rogers knew about the vampires will be proven wrong and his actions of mercy and healing will throw him into a war he did not even know was happening. He knew that vampires were deadly but nobody had ever said they were... beautiful too.</p><p>( January 2014. Not abandoned. Just … at a sticking point. Sorry for the delay.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moon Touched

Steve was reading when a small, quiet noise pulled his attention from the novel. He cocked his head, listening, wondering if a stray dog had gotten into the kitchen again. With a sigh, Steve set his book aside and went to the door of his little room. The hallway outside was dark, lit only by a single dim lantern, but Steve had no problem walking the familiar path. He glanced into the kitchen but couldn’t see anything. The rest of the dormitory, his office, and a few meeting rooms were similarly empty. A nervous feeling fluttered in Steve’s belly as he continued his search, even though he knew he had no reason to worry inside the church.

Steve walked out into the sanctuary, the pillars of the arcade and the pews of the nave lit by pale moonlight streaming through the windows. A block of silver moonlight shone through the open front door. Steve frowned. He never locked the doors to the sanctuary but visitors knew better than to leave one of the large double doors open. He went to close it when a tiny whimper had him spinning around, his heart in his throat. A figure was collapsed on the steps to the chancel, huddled before the altar. Steve hurried up the arcade. “Are you alright?” he asked as he neared the figure.

The person wore a long coat, their hair dark. Steve knelt and reached forward, easing a careful hand around a cool cheek. Coarse facial hair rubbed against his fingertips and some sort of warm liquid slicked his palm. “Sir?” asked Steve, afraid the man was injured. The man’s head tipped up and Steve froze, his hand still cupping the other’s cheek. Red eyes, dull as dusty rubies, stared up at him out of a colorless face. Warm, wet blood covered the man’s lips and smeared into a neat goatee. “Vampire,” breathed Steve, frightened and thrilled by the creature’s red eyes.

Steve knew he was going to die. He knew that any second the vampire would lunge forward and tear into his tender throat. He didn’t know how the creature had gotten into the sanctuary. The undead and other soulless creatures were not supposed to be able to enter holy ground. But here the vampire was, eyes red with bloodlust and cloudy with pain. Steve knew that no one escaped a vampire once it had its sights upon you. So it was a great surprise to Steve when the vampire’s eyes fluttered weakly closed and the creature slumped down onto the steps again.

Steve remained still, a rush of astonished breath escaping lungs that had been paralyzed just a moment before. He blinked down at the vampire lying before him. The harsh tang of copper assaulted his sense of smell and Steve finally noticed the widening pool of dark blood under the vampire. “You’re... hurt,” he muttered, half confused. Vampires were not injured easily and killing one was almost impossible. Steve had a sudden vision of snatching up a piece of wood from somewhere and thrusting it into the vampire’s chest. He’d be a hero for getting rid of one of the deadly creatures; but the mere thought of harming the helpless being made bile climb up his throat. He wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do it, not while the vampire lay unconscious.

Something howled from outside and Steve jerked to his feet, heart pounding anew. Steve could see through the still open door the shadow of something large and four legged pacing outside on the narthex, eyes gleaming sickly yellow. Other, smaller shapes roamed out beyond the yard along the low stone wall and the street. They started yipping and barking excitedly. The big beast howled again and Steve was across the sanctuary and slamming the door closed in a heartbeat. He fumbled the large wooden bar up across the entry and stumbled back against one of the pews, gasping in fear. The noises from outside rose and fell, making the hair on the back of Steve’s neck prickle. The sounds drifted from every direction and Steve thought that they were circling the churchyard. He looked quickly from window to window, sure that one of the creatures would come crashing through at any moment. Steve began to mutter the Lord’s Prayer, barely audible as terror tried to halt his tongue.

After what seemed an eternity the sounds lessened and then stopped. Silence fell over the church. Cautiously, Steve crept to one of the windows and peeked out but he couldn’t see anything. The beasts seemed to be gone. With a sigh Steve stepped away and looked at the creature still slumped before the altar. Had the pool of blood widened? He couldn’t be sure. Steve slowly walked through the nave until he stood by the vampire again, staring down. Finally Steve decided that the vampire had come to the church and that the church’s function had always been to provide sanctuary to whoever wished it. He didn’t know what those beasts had been outside but he was fairly sure the vampire at least wanted nothing to do with them.

Steve carefully worked his hands under the limp body, sure that any moment the vampire would awaken and Steve would have an armful of snarling creature with very sharp teeth. But the vampire remained unconscious and Steve left the sanctuary for the dormitory, drops of blood falling to the floor with every step. He gently laid the creature on a bare bed and left to fetch supplies. How does one give medical aid to a person who is technically already dead? The blood did not seem to clot, from what Steve could see. A small pool had already gathered under the vampire’s left side. Carefully, Steve pulled at the long leather coat, finding several long tears in the material. He peeled back layers until he could see the wounds in the vampire’s side under the ruined silk shirt. There were three deep gouges that tore through the vampire’s pale skin, starting mid-back and traveling over his ribs to his belly. Steve thought of the beasts that had been circling the church and winced.

The wounds bled freely and Steve worked quickly to get the vampire out of his clothing. He tossed the ruined coat, vest, and shirt into the corner. How much blood could a vampire afford to lose? Could he die if he lost too much? But he was already dead. The vampire’s chest was still and Steve repressed a shiver. He threaded a needle and set to work on sewing up the wounds. Half way through the vampire suddenly shifted and let out a whimper. Steve froze, bloody needle posed above flesh, as the vampire worked his mouth, revealing a pink tongue and sharp fangs. Then the creature seemed to settle again and Steve slowly continued, eyeing his patient warily. As Steve finished he covered the stitches with ointment, even though he had no idea if vampires had to worry about infection, and warped clean white bandages around his torso. He stepped back, bloody to his elbows, and stared down at the vampire, looking so much like a corpse. Steve gagged and raced from the bedroom to be sick in the washroom.

Dizzy and still nauseous, Steve returned to the bedroom where the vampire lay with a bucket and a scrub brush. Red had already begun to dot the white bandages. He cleaned the floor of the bedroom, feeling exhaustion creeping up on him. He went to the sanctuary, lighting a few lamps so he could see, and washed the blood from the chancel steps. He dumped the dirty red water down the sink drain in the kitchen, not wanting to chance going outside. There had been no more barking or howls like before but Steve wasn’t about to test if those beasts were still out there. Steve rinsed out the sink and slumped against the counter, mind on a numb repeat that he had a vampire convalescing in his church. He must have lost his mind.

Steve shuffled back to the dormitory. He peeked in on the vampire but the creature was as Steve had left him. Steve cleaned himself and left his bloody clothing in a heap in the washroom before collapsing back into bed. He sank into sleep effortlessly.


	2. Beautiful, Yet Frightening

Sunlight slanting through the high window woke Steve the next morning. He groaned, rolling over and trying to huddle into his pillow. Then he happened to glance at the clock on his nightstand and sat up with a gasp. He was incredibly late. People would be gathered at the door waiting to get in because he’d barred the door last night. A cold rush swept through Steve’s body as memory of last night came to the forefront. The beasts that had been circling the church last night were surely gone in the daylight. Nobody would be in danger waiting out on the narthex. Now, the vampire in the bedroom next to Steve’s was another matter.

Steve went to the door of the vampire’s bedroom and pressed his ear against the wood, carefully listening for any sound from inside. Nothing but silence, not even breathing. Not that Steve was expecting any. He slowly cracked the door open, wary of an awake and hungry vampire perhaps lying in wait, but the creature was still lying on the bed as Steve had left him last night. The room was much the same as Steve’s own; a narrow bed, a small nightstand, a single window high up on the wall. A window that was letting a square of yellow sunlight into the bedroom, slowly creeping toward the bed and the vampire that lay there. Steve frowned and went to find something to block the window before the sunlight could reach his guest.

An old rug was tacked up across the window. The once white bandages were soaked red and Steve carefully cut them away. He blinked in surprise at the wounds, already slightly healed. They looked as if they were several days old instead of just several hours. The gashes had scabbed over and were no longer bleeding. Steve cleaned away the dried blood, added more ointment just in case, and applied new bandages. He then covered the vampire in a blanket and crept from the room.

Steve washed; splashing his face with cold water and checking to make sure he’d gotten rid of all the blood, and dressed in his long black habit. He fixed his white collar on as he hurried down the hallway and out into the sanctuary. The church was different during the day, sunlight glowing golden through the windows and the wood of the pews and latticework releasing the scent of lemon polish. He paused as he caught sight of the chancel steps. The blood was gone but Steve could still tell where the vampire had lain last night. He shivered and hurried into the vestry, quickly carrying the large golden cross out and placing it on the altar.

There were indeed people waiting outside when Steve heaved the bar away from the door and they made polite inquiries about it as they entered the church. Steve chuckled, his eyes dry and gritty from too little sleep, and made an excuse about sleeping in that people chuckled at. He stood just inside the door and shook hands with people as they came in, glancing around the churchyard. There were no signs of the beasts from last night. The yard seemed normal in the bright morning light. Steve tried to tell himself that his nervousness was unneeded but he couldn’t quite make himself forget the terror of the howling and the vampire’s hypnotic red eyes.

A few words of a nearby conversation caught Steve’s attention. “…shooting at a pack of canine looking things. Deputy Hill says the Morris brothers had just been drinking again and taking potshots at some wild dogs but Warden Coulson has been sniffing around the ranches. People are muttering there are hellhounds running around Manhattan.”

Steve fought down a frown, trying to listen to both the conversation going on between the group of men nearby and appear to still be paying attention to old Miss Calvert’s yammering about her knee. Hellhounds? Was that what Steve had seen last night? The huge beast had certainly been hellish enough. “People are always muttering about things running around this city. Manhattan has got a clean reputation, John. Don’t go spreading rumors or you’ll be getting Hunters in here left and right. Mayor Fury would have your hide then.”

Steve couldn’t quite fight down a wince. Manhattan wasn’t as clean and safe as it boasted to be apparently. There was at least one vampire in the city and Steve was hiding him in the church dormitory. He herded the last of the stragglers into the sanctuary and everyone took their seats in the pews. He went up to the chancel, smoothly sidestepping the place where the vampire had collapsed, and bowed to the cross standing on the altar. Steve crossed himself, fingers to shoulders, forehead, and chest, and then pressed his fingers to his lips. “Please forgive me,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.

Steve went to the pulpit and entered the little box that allowed him to overlook the congregation. He felt nauseous again. He opened his mouth to begin to speak and nothing came out. Thoughts scattered like dry leaves. People stared up at him from the pews. With a dry croak, Steve began to speak about helping your fellow man and how we had to support each other in times of strife. He felt like a charlatan.

The sermon and verse recital seemed to take forever but finally Steve ushered the last of the people out of the sanctuary. He looked longingly out at the sunny churchyard, feeling like this was his last chance to flee. He could rush down to City Hall and report to Chief Rhodes that he had a vampire trapped in his church. They’d think him mad. Everyone knew that vampires couldn’t enter holy ground. Steve felt mad. Could a person feel themselves going insane? He gently closed the doors and, after a moment of deliberation, replaced the bar across them.

Steve crossed the arcade and walked down the hallway to the dormitory. He stopped outside the vampire’s bedroom and again listened at the door. Hearing nothing, Steve eased the door open, fully expecting to find the vampire still unconscious on the bed. He froze as the vampire looked up at him, glaring at Steve with dull red eyes. The vampire was clinging weakly to the headboard, struggling to hold himself up in a sitting position on the bed. The white bandages were spotted with red but not soaked through like last time. For the first time, Steve saw the vampire breath, his chest rising and falling to draw in air. The creature hissed at him, pale lips curling away from sharp fangs.

Steve slipped inside and closed the door. “You’re as weak as a kitten, aren’t you?” he muttered. He took a step forward. The vampire shifted back, drawing up his knees and emitting a growl that was much deeper than a body that size should be able to produce. Steve continued to edge forward until he was kneeling at the bedside. “Do you understand me?” Steve asked softly. Tales often depicted vampires as mere animals but Steve had a feeling that, like being unable to enter holy ground, that piece of information might not be as true as he thought. The vampire gave a displeased snort and Steve had the impression that the creature was insulted. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Steve said softly. “If I were I would have left you bleeding out in the sanctuary.” Wary red eyes flickered and one shaking hand drifted down to touch the bandages. Steve smiled. “Yes, I did that. I want to help you.”

Steve’s eyes wandered down the vampire’s body, across well-defined arms and a trim stomach. He could tell the creature’s legs were shapely even under the tattered pants and his long fingers were finely boned. The red eyes and black hair contrasted sharply with the pale skin. The vampire was rather attractive and Steve felt himself blush for having such thoughts. Never had the tales and warnings of vicious, bloodthirsty vampires said they were... beautiful. The images of vampires they had been shown had always depicted the creatures as misshapen and ugly.

A sobering thought crowded into Steve’s mind. “You need blood, don’t you?” Steve asked, chilled. The vampire merely stared at the priest. “You lost a lot last night. You must need more,” Steve muttered to himself. He felt possessed, or perhaps possessive, and an insane urge gripped him. He pulled his sleeve back and shoved his wrist in the vampire’s face. “Take mine.” The vampire jerked back, pressing himself into the corner of the bed and turning his face away, hissing again. “Come on,” demanded Steve. “You need to feed, right? And you can’t go out now. The sun is up. So take my blood instead.” The vampire kept his face averted, growling low like a very displeased and very large cat.

Steve scoffed, annoyed. Why would the vampire not take what Steve freely offered? Steve snatched up a small knife from the medical supplies, feeling the vampire tense, and jabbed himself on the inside of his wrist. He yelped with the pain and shoved his bleeding wrist back in the vampire’s face. “There! Now, feed so you can heal,” Steve demanded. Honestly, were all vampires this obstinate or just the one Steve had to deal with?

The vampire suddenly focused on the trickle of blood, as if the whole world had disappeared around them. The red eyes brightened and the black pupil contracted. Steve watched, entranced, before the vampire darted forward and a cool, rough tongue licked up the dribble of blood and laved the skin. A flash of white fangs and Steve felt a pair of tiny pricks on his wrist, a pain that flared bright and then mellowed. Steve shivered as he felt the strange sensation of the vampire sucking his blood, a cool rush through his veins. A shaking hand came up to clutch at Steve’s wrist and the priest swayed forward as those red eyes stared up at him, now ruby gem bright and shining. His mind fogged and a pleasurable tingle started at the base of his neck and working its way over his scalp. The rush traveled over Steve’s skin, sinking into his bones like quicksilver. He felt as if he had swallowed a whole bottle of laudanum, floating and stuck in pleasant dreams.

The pleasure ended like a popped soap bubble when the vampire gently pulled his fangs from Steve’s flesh and began to lick over his skin. Steve pulled his wrist away quickly, feeling like he’d been dropped in ice water. The vampire whined, reaching for the limb weakly and shaking his head. A bit of color had returned to the creature’s skin, his cheeks and his lips flushed faintly pink. He no longer looked as if he were a corpse left out in the winter snow. Steve snatched up a bandage from the medical supplies and pressed it to his sluggishly bleeding wrist, ignoring the vampire’s trill on the bed. He quickly left the bedroom and for the first time thought to fumble the lock to the door closed behind him.

Then Steve stumbled to a stop in the hallway, staring at the closed and locked door to the vampire’s bedroom. He breathed harshly and pressed the bandage to his wrist, which had begun to sting. What had he just done? What had he been thinking? He’d just willingly fed a vampire. This was the height of stupidity. Vampires were the scourge of humankind, vicious hunters that killed without remorse or reason. Steve remembered the pictures shown to children in school when they were taught about the creatures that lurked in the night. There were photos of men, women, and children, whole families, whole towns, torn apart and drained of blood to feed the soulless fiends. Vampires were twisted creatures, ravaged by a horrible disease. They weren’t people to be pitied or… or… pets to be taken care of.

Steve tried to fight down his trembling, pressing down on his wrist until his whole arm burned to remind himself that the vampire in the bedroom in front of him was dangerous. He was not someone Steve could tend to and then send on his way. Steve hurried down the hallway to the kitchen to clean and bandage his wrist, trying to stop the whirling thoughts of the vampire rushing about his head. He tried not to think of the vampire’s red eyes and how Steve had been completely in his thrall. The vampire could have drained him dry and left him for dead but instead the creature had stopped. He had stopped...


	3. Drain It Dry

After Steve tended to his wrist, the priest hurried out of the church in the early afternoon. He was determined to head to the police office and confess. (The irony of him needing to confess was not lost on Steve.) Then someone from the Hunter Guild would come and take the vampire away while it was still weak and sick. They would put a wooden stake through his heart and cut off his head. The body would be burned and the ashes scattered far and wide. Steve stumbled to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, bile rising up his throat at the mere thought of the vampire being hurt, same as it had that first night when the creature had been lying on the chancel steps. He hurried to the side and tucked himself out of the way of foot traffic.

Steve bit his lip and tried to think logically, to put his strange feelings to the side. It was the right thing to do, turning the vampire in. When it got healthy, when it healed, the creature would be a menace. The city of Manhattan prided on being a city without vampires, where it’s people did not have to fear the dark. Mayor Fury made sure his people were safe from the undead and the creatures of the night. Except Steve knew this wasn’t exactly true. He shivered in the bright sunlight at the thought of the beasts from last night, howling and barking in the churchyard. Could they have really been hellhounds? They had been taught that hellhounds were very rare, almost unheard of. Then there was the vampire himself.

The vampire’s red eyes, dull until that first gulp of Steve’s blood. The creature had not wanted to drink, had tried to shuffle away from the priest when Steve had offered to feed him. Steve recalled the whimpers of pain the creature had made, the pale flesh ripped. Had the hellhounds been the ones to do that? Were they hunting Steve’s vampire? Steve’s swirling thoughts stilled, astonished at themselves, and he sighed. He bowed his head. “Lord,” he muttered softly. “I ask thee to forgive me but I was always taught to follow my heart. I can only hope this is your will as it is mine.” Steve turned and strode off, hoping his decision didn’t come back to bite him in the ass, literally.

“Steve!” someone called. Steve turned, looking around for the voice. “Hey, Steve! Over here!” A hand waved in the air, drawing Steve’s eyes to a mop of familiar hair.

Steve’s heart sank even as he smiled. Normally a visit from his friend would be a happy occasion but today had to be the worst timing ever for it to happen. “Bucky,” greeted Steve as he friend neared him. “What are you doing back in Manhattan?”

“Eh, you know how it is,” Bucky said carelessly, a grin on his scruffy face. He looked like he had been out in the wild for a long time and needed a good wash. His dusty and sturdy clothing looked strange in the middle of the city and his boots had seen better days and were still caked with mud. “Not many vamps running around the hills these days. Little shits are getting sneaky.” He mistook Steve sudden frown for something other than it was. “Oh, pardon my language, Father Rogers. I shouldn’t be cussing in front of a man of the cloth,” teased Bucky.

“Don’t start, Bucky,” complained Steve.

Bucky raised his hands in a surrender position. “I’m not starting anything, Steve. I think it’s great you took over the parish from Father Murphy when he died. Shepherding is a good look for you.” He looked sarcastically up and down at Steve’s black habit and then frowned. “Hey, when did this happen?” Bucky reached for Steve’s arm, pushing back his sleeve to get a closer look at the bandage around his wrist, spotted on the underside by twin red dots.

Steve twisted his wrist out of Bucky’s grip. The bite was the last thing Steve wanted Bucky to focus on. Steve didn’t need his old friend putting two and two together and coming up with a number that involved vampire. A Hunter sniffing around the church would be disastrous. Steve felt a surge of protectiveness rise in his chest. He couldn’t let Bucky anywhere near his vampire, friend or no friend. “Just a clumsy moment in the kitchen this morning. Don’t fuss. We’re not children anymore, Bucky. You don’t need to protect me.”

Bucky threw up his hands again. “Right. Big man Rogers doesn’t need any help. Got’cha,” he snapped in annoyance, just like Steve knew he would. Steve tamped down his guilt. He would apologize later. “Listen, I’m gonna be around for a few days. You wanna pick up lunch sometime?”

Steve thought about the vampire hiding in his church and forced himself to smile. “Sure. Friday? We could go to Lucy’s place.” That would give him a couple days to figure out something at least.

Bucky grinned. “That sounds great. I’ve gotta run by the City Hall and the Guild but I’ll see you later. Okay?”

Steve tried to not let Bucky see his relief and nodded. “Sure, Bucky. Maybe you can stop by during a mass? When were you last in church?”

Bucky gave a smiling wince. “You know church and I don’t get along, Steve. All that sitting still makes me itchy.” They shared a laugh, memories of a tousled haired young Bucky practically vibrating off his seat rising in their minds.

“You always had too much energy, Bucky.”

“Yeah, lay off. I was a wonderful child.” Steve snorted and Bucky smirked. “Take care, Steve.” Bucky clapped Steve on the shoulder; of course the shoulder that ached from the bite.

Steve swallowed back a grunt. “Yeah. Take care, Bucky.” Steve gave a half wave as his friend crossed the street, long brown coat looking odd among the tailored short jackets most people in Manhattan wore, and disappeared down the street. Steve reached up to rub at the shoulder Bucky had thumped, muttered a soft “ow” under his breath. He then turned and hurried on his way. He had a goat to buy.

As teens Steve and Bucky often worked summers on one of the farms or ranches that surrounded Manhattan. They had spent a lot of time on the Carter farm; Bucky teasing a gangly teenaged Steve for his crush on their daughter, Peggy. The Carters had been good to them and Steve knew that they would sell him a goat at a good price. He was even more relieved to learn that Peggy was in the city when he came to the farm. Ten years later and Steve still stuttered around Peggy, blushing so hard he thought his face was going to go up in flames. He also felt right silly walking the small goat back through the city to the church.

Now came for the part Steve had always hated when he worked on the ranches. He tied the goat at a patch of nice grass and went to his bedroom to change. This was going to be messy. Steve put on an old shirt and work pants and changed his shoes for a sturdy pair of boots. He then crept to the vampire’s bedroom and unlocked the door. He turned the key slowly but the click sounded loud as a gun shot in the silence. Steve quietly opened the door and peeked in, finding the vampire curled up on the bed. The creature appeared to be asleep, chest once again still. There was still the faint flush of color to his skin, lips blossom pink. Satisfied that the vampire was still okay, Steve carefully closed the door, relocked it, and hurried back to the kitchen.

Steve led the goat into the kitchen, selected a sharp knife and a large bowl, and with one swift cut had the goat’s blood draining into the bowl. “Thank you for your sacrifice,” he muttered to the animal as he strung it up from the ceiling beams. He collected one bowl and set another out to catch the rest. Walking carefully so he didn’t spill any of the ruby red liquid, Steve made his way back to the dormitory. He awkwardly unlocked the vampire’s door and slid inside. The vampire’s eyes popped open, chest expanding and a low warning hiss rising. Steve crept forward, watching the creature’s bright red eyes center on the bowl he was carrying. “I brought you more food,” Steve said softly.

The vampire slowly levered himself up and pushed himself back away from Steve, eyes wary but interested. The vampire trilled, which Steve thought might be the creature’s version of a curious hum. “It’s goat,” said Steve, setting the bowl down on the nightstand and stepping back. “I hope that’s okay.” Steve made a face and said, “It’s fresh and still warm.” The vampire’s lips twisted into a smirk, as if amused. Steve thought the vampire would fall messily on the blood, gorging itself as it hadn’t when it fed on Steve, but instead the creature propped itself against the headboard, legs curled protectively under himself, and picked up the bowl with his hands. The vampire sipped daintily at the blood as if he were drinking tea from a fine china cup. The blood coated his lips, painting them a vivid red. Steve found himself staring, a lump forming in his throat.

It was only as the vampire pulled the empty bowl away and set it lightly on the nightstand that Steve started out of his trance. “There is more,” he croaked, hurrying from the room. Steve retrieved the second bowl, only half full, and went back to the vampire’s bedroom. It was as he was walking down the dormitory hallway that he realized he had left the door unsecured; he hadn’t even bothered to close it let alone lock it. Sudden visions of a vicious murdering vampire loose in Manhattan filled Steve’s head and he raced to the door with his heart climbing up his throat.

Relief made him sag against the wall. The vampire was still curled against the headboard of the bed, just as Steve had left him. The creature cocked his head at Steve, cat curious and just as elegant. Steve found himself blushing under that red eyed regard. He sat the new bowl of blood on the nightstand like before and stepped back. “Um, enjoy,” he said nervously. Steve sat himself on a spindly chair at the end of the bed and told himself he wouldn’t stare this time. The vampire smirked at him again, reaching for the bowl with hands that still shook but were much steadier than that morning. He drank the liquid slowly, ruby red eyes shining like polished gem stones. Steve wondered if their color and luster was a sign of health in the vampire and then frowned at himself. A healthy vampire was not something he should hope for.

Steve bit at his thumbnail, mind whirling. He had bought himself a few days to figure out what to do with the vampire when he lied to Bucky. But Steve didn’t know what he was going to do. He couldn’t keep the vampire here in the church forever. As biddable as the creature seemed at the moment, Steve knew that a healthy vampire would be a danger to the congregation and other visitors to the church. For all that he appeared to be nothing more than a giant cat, Steve knew the vampire was a dangerous creature. The priest remembered tales of people being torn apart by vampires, blood drained dry to feed their insatiable appetite. He couldn’t take the chance. Steve felt his heart break a little. He couldn’t keep him.

Steve shook himself and reigned in his wayward thoughts. The vampire was not a pet and he was being ridiculous. If he couldn’t bring himself to allow the vampire to be killed, then the next best thing would be to take the vampire as far from the city as he could. Steve would sneak the creature out of Manhattan, out past the farms and ranches to where the hills rolled green and the forests grew tall, and hope for the best. Even if the mere thought of losing the vampire made his chest feel heavy.

Maybe being preoccupied with his thoughts while in the presence of a hungry vampire was a bad idea. The vampire had finished the second bowl and was now staring at Steve with shining red eyes. His skin was flushed with life, still pale but now with the soft pink of the living. If Steve had seen him walking down the street, he would have thought him human. As long as he disregarded the red eyes. Steve found himself frozen as the vampire stared at him. The creature trilled and unfolded himself, slowly crawling down the bed. Steve told himself to move, ordered his legs to stand from the chair, his arms to lift, but he remained rooted to his seat.

Slowly the vampire knelt at the end of the bed, reaching out to grab Steve’s arm and lifting it up while the rest of Steve remained paralyzed. Cool fingers slide over his palm and up his wrist, pushing back his sleeve and running over the white bandage around his wrist. The red eyes stared at Steve, half-lidded and twinkling. He trilled again. “Do you want more?” Steve asked, half surprised he could even speak at all. The rest of his body still refused to move.

The vampire cocked his head, a lock of dark hair falling across his forehead and a little smile curling his blood stained lips. Sharp nails – how had Steve missed how sharp those fingernails were? – picked at the bandage, unraveling it until it pooled like a forgotten spirit on the floor. The two bite marks from that morning stood vividly against the soft skin of Steve’s wrist, puffy and sore. Steve spared a thought about infection in the wounds when the vampire made a sorrowful little purr and raised Steve’s wrist to his mouth. Instead of the two sharp pricks Steve had expected, the vampire ran his cool tongue over his wrist. The old wounds immediately stopped stinging, the faint burn that Steve hadn’t even noticed anymore fading away. The vampire continued to run his tongue over Steve’s wrist, red eyes fixed on the priest’s face and shining with mischief. Steve stared, mesmerized and unable to control the slight shivers running through his body as the vampire’s tongue continued to lap at his skin.

Finally, the vampire released Steve’s arm with a little coo and shifted back on the bed, curling up around the pillow like a contented cat. Steve blinked, suddenly able to move as the vampire blinked drowsily. He stood quickly from the chair and backed up against the wall, belated panic thumping through his veins. The creature looked unconcerned on the bed, licking red lips lazily. Steve looked down at his wrist and gasped. The skin was unblemished, the two bite marks gone. He poked curiously at his healed wrist with a shaking finger. It wasn’t even sore. “How?” he breathed, looking at the vampire on the bed. The creature chirped lightly, eyes sleepily half-lidded.

Steve rotated his wrist and frowned. “This was what you were trying to do this morning, wasn’t it? With the licking? You were trying to heal the bite wounds and I pulled away.” He felt silly now but he had never heard of a vampire healing bite wounds before. Tales always said that a vampire ripped into skin and drained a body but his vampire had always been delicate when he fed. It was confusing. And he really needed to stop calling the creature “his vampire”. It made him feel even more insane than he already was.

The vampire seemed to fall into sleep, body still on the bed. Steve rubbed at his wrist and went to the nightstand to collect the empty bowls. He paused as he neared the vampire, looking down at the sleeping creature. He was so different from the monsters they had been warned about at school and Steve felt another surge of protectiveness for what he was increasingly thinking as “his vampire”. The priest sighed, stopping himself from reaching out and stroking the messy dark hair. The vampire looked innocent as he slept, skin and lips flushed a healthy pink. Steve didn’t even find the still chest odd anymore. With a shudder Steve snatched up the bowls and strode from the bedroom, locking the door behind him. He still needed to butcher the goat and store the meat in the icebox.


	4. Bark & Bite

Steve tended to his chores for the rest of the afternoon. He swept the sanctuary and spoke with a few people that stopped by the church to pray. The mid-day sun was still slanting through the churchyard trees when Steve went out to rake the garden and prune the herbs but he couldn’t quite forget seeing the hellhounds pacing the stone walls. He kept staring into shadows where ivy grew thick, looking for movement. The dirt path around the building yielded no signs of the beasts and anything that had been on the flagstone narthex had been destroyed by the footprints of the congregation that morning. But Steve found himself wary and nervous wandering the churchyard. He ended up going inside well before the sun dipped low, afraid of pushing his luck.  
  
He told himself he wasn’t going to check on the vampire and found himself in the dormitory at the creature’s door anyway. He unlocked the door and peeked in, finding him still sleeping on the bed. A little kernel of worry, that the vampire would just disappear into smoke while he wasn’t watching, eased inside Steve’s chest. He closed the door and relocked it before heading to the kitchen. He’d managed some bread and butter early that morning but hadn’t eaten anything else all day and was starving. He cooked up some of the goat meat, not wanting it to go to waste. The setting sun, sinking slowly down the window’s glass, suddenly held a fascination it never had before. Steve watched it creep downward.  
  
Steve locked the back door that led from the kitchen. Then he went into the sanctuary and stood before the front doors, undecided. The doors to the church were never locked because Steve believed that the Lord should always be available to his children but the memory of the hellhounds still sent chills up his spine. He still didn’t know what had injured the vampire and the thought of anything strong enough to wound him so badly was enough for terror to slither into Steve’s heart. He lifted the heavy wooden bar and set it across the doors. Night settled over church, shadows long and more sinister than Steve remembered them being. Even the familiar path down the dormitory hallway now seemed to hold secrets.  
  
The priest unlocked the vampire’s bedroom door and entered. The creature was awake and sitting up on the bed, bright eyes curious and guileless. He seemed to have lost much of the wariness he displayed toward Steve before. Steve didn’t know how he felt about that. He felt like he was gentling a wild animal and he needed to remember that that wariness would serve the vampire better when Steve took him out into the forests and let him go. Steve sank into the chair, tired and drawn with worry. He was probably doing the creature a great disservice but knew that he wouldn’t be able to put distance between them again.  
  
The vampire chirped, still curled around the pillow. Steve frowned, a thought popping up. “Can you speak?” The vampire seemed human enough, there should be no reason he couldn’t talk. Although the tales never said such creatures could speak. Steve wasn’t putting much stock in the tales and warning anymore. “You obviously understand me,” mused Steve. “But I’ve only heard you snarl and hiss.” The vampire gave Steve an unimpressed look and opened his mouth. Steve tensed in anticipation but only a small croak came out of the vampire’s mouth before harsh coughing overcame the creature.  
  
The vampire bucked, a few spatterings of blood falling to the pillow as he hacked. Steve jumped to his feet. “Are you alright?” he cried. The priest rushed to the bed but hovered uncertainly over the creature. He coughed and spat, twisting among the sheets until he finally was able to stop, lying limp and miserable. Steve expected the vampire to pant after the fit but his chest lay still again. The vampire curled around his injured side with a whine, sharp fingernails picking at the bandage. “Did you hurt yourself?” asked Steve, worried. He fetched the scissors from the medical supplies and reached over to cut away the bandages. The action earned him a little hiss but Steve hushed the vampire.  
  
Steve removed the old bandages and brought the lamp closer to the vampire’s side to inspect the stiches. The creature seemed to really not like that and growled. The wounds were mostly closed, the thread pulling painfully at the skin. The vampire began to claw at them, cutting the stiches. “Stop that,” scolded Steve. “Let me take them out.” The creature bared his fangs as Steve retrieved a tiny pair of scissors and tweezers. He knelt by the bed, setting the lamp close, and carefully began to remove the stitches. The vampire snarled and hissed but as Steve worked he began to quiet. He lay still but tense as Steve removed the threads, trying to be gentle but knowing the vampire’s tender skin was stinging anyway as he pulled out the stitches. The creature rolled away as soon as the last one came out. “There,” said Steve softly as the vampire curled against the wall. He inspected his side, three lines of inflamed and puckered skin running along his ribs. Steve went to the washroom and returned with a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth. He gently washed the vampire’s side, wiping away a few drops of blood as the vampire leaned away from him and growled low in his throat. “I’m just helping, stop your noise,” said Steve, as if the vampire were a complaining child.  
  
Steve washed the medical supplies and eyed the dirty sheets on the bed with a grimace. He tugged on the blanket, the vampire giving him an annoyed look. “I need to replace these. They’re dirty,” he said reasonably. He tugged a little harder. “Do you think you can manage sitting up in a chair while I change the bed linens?” The vampire grumbled. Steve reached out his hands and the creature eyed his fingers like they were deadly snakes. “Will you let me help you?” Steve asked softly. A flash of fang but the vampire crawled to the end of the bed and eyed the distance to the chair. He edged one leg over the side of the bed and shifted his weight onto it. He swayed, trembling, and Steve grabbed his arm. The vampire growled but together they managed to fumble him into the chair. Again, the creature didn’t pant as Steve expected he would but instead stared resentfully down at the floor. Steve had the impression he was embarrassed.  
  
The priest stripped the bed, dumping the dirty sheets in the hallway, and returned with fresh linens. He remade the bed, fetched a new pillow and blanket from one of the other bedrooms, and then repeated the process of helping an annoyed vampire back into it. Steve was rewarded with a halfhearted swipe by the creature as he huddled into the corner of the bed, all the force of a tiny kitten, irritation rolling off him in waves. Steve knew that any more attempts to touch the vampire would end badly. His patience had seemed to run out. “You’re like a cranky child,” muttered Steve. The vampire glared at him before ducking his head under the blanket. Black tuffs of hair stuck out of the top. Steve rolled his eyes and went to take the soiled sheets to the laundry besides the kitchen.  
  
Steve was just shoving the linens into a bucket of warm water when the first howl sounded outside. Steve jumped, flailing back away from the window and knocking his shoulder against the doorjamb. Barking echoed around the churchyard, just as it had the night before. A large shadow drifted across the window, followed by another howl. Down the hall in the dormitory, a distressed whining started. Steve stumbled out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him, and raced back to the vampire’s bedroom.  
  
The creature was sitting up on the bed, red eyes wide and droning a low whine. Steve shut the door to the bedroom and fumbled the lock closed, almost stumbling over the chair as he backed away. His heart pounded with fear. He didn’t expect the hellhounds to return. “Can they get in?” he asked the vampire breathlessly. On the bed, the vampire hesitated before shaking his head a little. It did not comfort Steve. The vampire did not look completely sure in his answer. Howls echoed outside the window. He had barred the doors; the church was as secure as Steve could make it. The priest sank onto the chair and, as he had last night, began to mutter the Lord’s Prayer as the beasts barked and yipped outside. The vampire watched him, red eyes heavy-lidded and curled up tight in the blanket, as the night drew on.


	5. Not As He Seems

Steve woke stiff and sore slumped in the chair, the sun glowing golden against the blanket that still covered the window. He blinked gummy blue eyes up at the ceiling. Fatigue tugged at his limbs and fogged his mind. He slowly sat up, pulling his neck up straight with a wince. Bones snapped and things pulled in his back. Steve groaned, reaching back to rubbed at his neck. The vampire trilled, making Steve start. More things popped and Steve grunted in pain. The creature cocked his head from where he was sitting up in bed. Steve looked around the room. “When did I fall asleep?” he muttered to himself. He remembered the hellhounds howling in the night. Exhaustion must have pulled him into sleep at some point.  
  
Steve stood, stretching his legs. Spending the night in the chair had not done him any favors. He felt as if he hadn’t slept at all. “Are you alright?” the priest asked the vampire. The creature shifted to the edge of the bed and beckoned with one hand. Steve frowned, stepping up to the bed. “What is it?” The vampire grabbed Steve’s elbow and pulled his arm up, slipping his sleeve back. “Oh, do you need more blood?” asked Steve in confusion. How much blood did a vampire need? Steve had no idea. The sweep of a cool tongue across the inside of his wrist was the answer to Steve’s voiced question, followed by the fleeting pain of the bite. The same type of allover tingle that had happened the first time the vampire had fed on him spread across Steve’s skin. The pain of sore muscles from sleeping in the chair disappeared and the exhaustion that pulled at his mind was soothed into a pleasant haze. All the tension drained from his body as the vampire took a few swallows of blood. The fangs slid from his wrist and Steve held still as the vampire licked over the bite marks, soothing the stinging. When the wounds were gone, the vampire released him and curling up on the bed with a yawn.  
  
The sense of ease and relaxation stayed with Steve as he lifted he hand and looked at the unmarked underside of his wrist. On the bed, the creature licked his lips with a faint smirk and closed his eyes, seemingly falling asleep. Steve couldn’t stop himself from smiling, fondness growing in his chest. Then he caught sight of the clock on the bedside table and groaned. One ruby red eye peeked up at him. “I’m late. Again,” said Steve with a chuckle. Without thinking, he reached forward and pushed back a lock of the vampire’s dark hair. “I’ll see you later.” Steven then hurried from the bedroom, locking the door behind himself. He washed and changed into his habit. Feeling a sense of deja-vu, Steve rushed to set up the altar and then took down the bar from across the front doors.  
  
Sunlight poured in as Steve opened the door, a smile on his face. “Sorry, I’m late again,” he said. Then he frowned, several conversations cutting off as the people saw him and a few shifting nervously. “What’s wrong?” Steve asked, tensing.  
  
“I think you have a wild dog problem, Father,” said Mrs. Colins. Beside her, Mr. Colins was frowning down at the bottom of the doors. Steve walked out onto the narthex and turned to face the front doors, feeling like he was walking to an execution. The pleasant feeling from the vampire feeding on him drained away, leaving him feeling like he’d been dumped in ice water. Around the bottom edges of the doors were scratches and gouges bitten out of the wood, marring the once lovely carved surface. There was even a few claw marks on the surrounding stone and along the ground. It was as if some mad dog had attacked the doors.  
  
“There have been reports of some wild dogs running around the city,” said someone, distaste in their voice. Steve stared at the doors, feeling faint. He hadn’t heard anything last night that would make him think the beasts circling the church were attacking the doors. There had just been the howling and the barking. Were there other places where they had tried to get inside? Steve would have to check. Worry tightened into a lump in his throat. He thought the church would keep the beasts out but what if they could enter given enough time? How could Steve hope to protect his weakened vampire?  
  
“It’s hellhounds, I tell ya! Or werewolves! I bet it’s werewolves!”  
  
“Shut up, John. You think everything is hellhounds and there aren’t any more werewolves. You need to stop drinking your brother’s rotgut liquor. It’s making your crazy worse.”  
  
“It’s just a bunch of stray dogs, for pity’s sake. It’s happened before.” It had, once. A stray dog had gotten into the kitchen and made a huge mess but only because the back door hadn’t been latched probably and had popped open during the night. This was not a stray dog. Steve swallowed, viciously yanking his mind away from thoughts about hellhounds, and started shooing people into the sanctuary. He smiled and agreed it was just some stray dogs and he’d love some help fixing the doors. He shoved down the panicked feeling that he should run back to the dormitory and check on the vampire, make sure the creature was okay. He had to keep up appearances and keep away suspicions. The last thing he needed was the police sniffing around with reports about hellhounds. He needed to get the vampire away and somewhere safe.  
  
Steve didn’t know what he talked about, what his sermon was, and the recital of scripture was nothing more than a blur. He was only happy it wasn’t Sunday or else he’d have the choir running around the church, changing into their robes and standing up in the loft to sing. Possibly finding a certain locked room in the dormitory. The weekday masses were much shorter and it felt like Steve had barely blinked before he was standing back at the damaged doors and saying goodbye as the congregation shuffled out.  
  
Steve forced himself to wave at the last of the people, waiting until they had made it a good distance down the street before calmly shutting the doors. He then raced across the sanctuary and down the hallway that lead back to the dormitory. The fierce urge to check on the vampire twisted in Steve’s chest and he wasn’t able to ignore it anymore. He ran down the hallway and turned the corner only to come to a quick stop. The vampire’s door was open. As was his own door next to it. Steve’s heart leapt and he scrambled to put his back to the wall, fearful of the creature in a way he hadn’t been since that first morning.  
  
Had the vampire broken out? Steve had thought the creature too weak to escape. The priest crept forward, peeking around the doorjamb. The door to the bedroom was open but undamaged, as was the door to his own bedroom. If the vampire hadn’t broken out, then had he picked the lock? Could vampires do that? Where had the creature gone? Steve had a sudden vision of ruby red eyes slowly stalking one of the congregation from the shadows just before he leapt upon the poor unsuspecting person. Steve prayed the vampire was still contained in the church and wished he’d taken the time to bar the front door again.  
  
Steve tiptoed onward and looked into his own bedroom but it was empty as well. The door to his wardrobe hung open however. Steve was pretty sure he had not left it as so. A small, familiar chirp sounded behind Steve and he spun around. The vampire blinked at him from the door to the washroom. Steve didn’t know if the lightheaded feeling he was experiencing right then was terror or relief. The vampire was wearing one of Steve’s shirts and a pair of his pants, the clothing baggy on the creature’s much smaller frame. The cuffs were rolled up so they didn’t flap over his feet and hands.  
  
The vampire had washed. His dark hair now lay in soft waves and he’d trimmed his goatee. Steve suddenly realized how strange it was to see styled facial hair on a vampire. He looked up into the creature’s eyes, trying to see if the vampire was going to be violent or if he would stay as agreeable as he had been the past two days, and was astonished to find the creature’s eyes were no longer ruby red. They were now a warm brown, like the finest chocolate Steve had ever seen. He mentally added the ability to change their eyes color to the ever expanding list of information Steve was compiling about vampires.  
  
The vampire cocked his head at Steve, chirped again, and began to shuffle down the hallway. He rested one hand lightly on the wall and walked slowly. Steve wanted to call him back, to bundle the creature back into bed and sooth him with a few muttered words like last night. Instead he followed the vampire down the hallway. They walked past the passageway that would have taken them to the sanctuary, much to Steve’s relief, and continued on to the kitchen. Steve paused in the doorway as the vampire ran his long fingers along the counters and searched through the cabinets. He saw the creature wrinkle his nose at the corner where Steve had butchered the goat, although Steve had cleaned the area thoroughly. Finally, the vampire pulled a glass from the cabinet and went to the sink to fill it with water. Steve blinked as the creature drank the water in a few quick gulps. “You can drink water?” he muttered in confusion. A vampire could drink other things besides blood?  
  
Then the vampire’s whole body heaved and he began to choke, bent over the sink. Steve rushed forward in alarm but a halfhearted swipe from the creature pushed him back. The creature hacked and spat until he expelled a black glob into the sink, rather like a cat getting rid of a hairball. Steve fought down a hysterical giggle as the vampire rinsed out the sink with a grimace and drank another two glasses of water. He then shuffled over to the dining table and fumbled himself into a chair. The vampire looked at Steve with annoyed brown eyes as the priest stood awkwardly in the center of the room. He looked pointedly at the chair at the other end of the table and Steve practically fell into it.  
  
The vampire gave a slight nod, coughed a little, took another sip of water, and then spoke. “Thank you,” he said in a soft and scratchy voice.  
  
Steve stared. “You… You can talk?”  
  
“Of course I can talk. Don’t be ridiculous.”  
  
“But, you’re a vampire!”  
  
“Nothing gets by you, priest,” snapped the vampire shortly. He then winced and rubbed at his throat, taking another sip of water. “Forgive me. I’m not in the best of tempers at the moment.”  
  
“Are you alright?”  
  
The vampire smiled a little. Steve thought the creature almost looked fond. “I am in much better health than I would have been without your help. So, thank you.”  
  
“What did you just throw up in my sink?” asked Steve, unable to contain his curiosity. Then he felt stupid because of all the questions he could have asked the vampire, that was the one that popped out first.  
  
The vampire looked insulted and Steve got the impression he had just asked something very rude. To the priest’s surprise, the creature answered anyway. “The unusable portions of my meals thus far.” Steve’s gaze drifted to the sink. There were unusable portions of blood for vampires? “What is your name?”  
  
Steve started. “Oh, um. Steve. Steve Rogers. Uh, nice to meet you. I think.”  
  
The vampire smiled, amusement in his warm brown eyes. “I am Anthony. You may call me Tony, if you wish. And it is indeed very nice to meet you, Steve. I cannot decide if you are very brave or merely very foolish.”  
  
“Excuse me?” asked Steve with a frown.  
  
“At the very best most people would have left me to bleed out on the floor and run as far away as possible. At the very worst they would have called the authorities and had a Hunter dispatch me. Instead you tend to my wounds and feed me, of all things. So, you are either very brave or very foolish.”  
  
Steve’s frown deepened. “You were running from those beasts, right? You came to the church for protection, for sanctuary. I would never turn away someone who came to me for honest help. I take my vows very seriously.”  
  
The vampire – Tony- looked pleased. “Very brave and very foolish, then.”  
  
“Are you sure you’re a vampire? You don’t seem very… vampire-ish,” asked Steve, increasingly feeling like he was talking with a normal human. It was surreal.  
  
“I am vampire,” said Tony. He smiled, this time showing his sharp fangs. His eyes gleamed a reddish color for a moment. Steve was surprised that the sight didn’t alarm him one bit. “One does not go around drinking the blood of living things without being a vampire, Steve.”  
  
“But, you talk and drink water and you look…” Beautiful. Steve fought down a blush at that stray thought. “Normal enough. You’re nothing like the vampires we’re warned about. They’re…monsters and nothing like you.”  
  
“Indeed, I am nothing like those poor beasts,” said the vampire softly. Tony skipped his gaze around the kitchen. “Do you have any food?”  
  
“Oh,” said Steve, sitting up straighter. “Do you need more blood?”  
  
Tony laughed. It was a low and pleasant sound that sent shivers up Steve’s spine. “No, Steve. I am well. I mean regular food; vegetables, meat, bread. I know you butchered that goat here. I can smell it. You must still have some of its meat.”  
  
“You want…food. Like, food humans would eat?” asked Steve, astonished.  
  
“I would, yes. Do not look so amazed, Steve. I am very different from those vampires you so fear.”  
  
“Oh,” said Steve, bemused. He stood and went to the icebox to see what they had. “I suppose I could make something for lunch. I’m hungry myself.” He rummaged for a moment before an idea popped into his head. “I’m sorry. This might be a silly question but I have to ask.” Tony cocked an eyebrow, which Steve took as permission. “Garlic?” the priest asked, knowing his meaning would get across with just the one word.  
  
The vampire laughed again, much to Steve’s pleasure. “Old wife’s tale. I actually enjoy garlic very much,” answered Tony.  
  
“Right,” said Steve with a sheepish smile. He took down a pan and lit the gas stove, having to use the sparker twice to catch the gas alight.  
  
“After we eat, I will need you to deliver a message,” said Tony.  
  
“A message?” echoed Steve, his spirits dimming.  
  
“Yes. I assume you are aware of who James Rhodes is?”  
  
Steve dropped the spatula into the pan with a clang. Tony winced at the noise. “The police chief? Have you lost your mind? Why would you want to send him a message?” Visions of the vampire beheaded and burned flashed through Steve’s mind again, souring his stomach.  
  
“Relax, Steve,” said Tony, surprised at the priest’s reaction. “James Rhodes is a friend of mine. He will be able to get me home.”  
  
“A friend? Is he, like you?”  
  
Tony shook his head. “No. Rhodes is not a vampire.”  
  
Steve frowned, a disturbing thought occurring to him. “Is he human?”  
  
Tony hesitated. “I can’t answer that,” he said at last, dropping his gaze to the tabletop.  
  
That was good enough as a negative answer, wasn’t it? Steve turned back to the stove, flipping the cutlets before they burned. “Okay, I’ll take a message to him if you want.”  
  
“Thank you,” replied the vampire sincerely.  
  
Steve poked at the cooking food desolately. Somewhere along the way, Steve had begun to believe that he might be able to, well, keep the vampire. This was ridiculous since his plans were always to smuggle the vampire out of the city and into the hills before releasing him. It was madness to keep a vampire in the city, let alone a church of all places. He wasn’t a pet and maybe the vampire was right. Steve was a fool. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his palm across his forehead. A fool with a foolish heart.  
  
Steve took the pan from the stove and reached for plates. The cutlets and vegetables were simple, as most of Steve’s cooking was, but he hoped it was to Tony’s liking. The vampire was still sitting in his chair when Steve put the plate down in front of him, blinking sleepily and kind of swaying from side to side. “I hope this is fine,” Steve said nervously.  
  
“It looks very appetizing, Steve. Thank you.” The priest fetched them forks and knifes and was pleased when Tony began to eat the food without hesitation. It was strange to watch the vampire eat regular food, as strange as hearing him speak. Was the reality of vampires really so different from the tales and warnings Steve had heard all his life? Tony was by no means like those creatures had been depicted, twisted and deformed and feral. By the way he spoke and his manners, Steve was sure he was part of the gentry. This was the first time Steve had actually seen a person lightly rest their cutlery against their plates to take a dainty sip of water. People Steve usually ate with just shoved their fork and knife into the same fist and gulped their drink noisily. Steve felt unwieldy in comparison.   
  
Which brought about the question of just how many vampires of Tony ilk actually roamed around the supposedly vampire free city of Manhattan? How blind were the citizens of this city? Tony finished eating while Steve was lost in thought, not realizing he was pretty much staring at the vampire. He smiled at Steve in amusement. Steve was beginning to wonder if mindreading wasn’t part of a vampire’s powers. He blushed, dropping his gaze hastily to his half-finished plate. “Do you have paper with which I may compose my message?” asked Tony.  
  
Steve jumped up from the table. “Yes, of course. Let me get you some.” He put their plates in the sink and hurried up and across the hallway to his office for some paper and a pen. The vampire was still sitting as Steve had left him when the priest returned. Steve thought Tony might look a touch more pale than he had before. “Are you alright?” he asked, concerned as he brought the vampire the writing utensils.  
  
“Yes,” replied Tony, taking the pen and uncapping it. “I just require more rest. My wounds are healed but it required a great deal of energy to do so. I am simply tired.”  
  
“Oh,” muttered Steve, hovering as Tony began to write. “Well, after this you should go back to bed while I deliver your message.” Tony nodded, attention on his writing.  
  
After the page was filled with elegant slanting script, Tony capped the pen and laid it aside. “Now, when you enter City Hall you need to take the main marble stairway and then the right corridor. At the end there will be a large wooden desk with several clerks. Ask for Bambi. Tell her you have a message for James Rhodes from an old friend from MIT. Understand?” Steve nodded as Tony folded his message in half. He took another sip of water, his voice getting rougher as he talked. “Good. Give this paper to Rhodes and to Rhodes only. Do not let some clerk take it with the promise to deliver it. Now, Rhodes should do nothing more than dismiss you after taking the message but in the off chance that he should ask any questions you are to only tell him that your mutual friend is well and awaiting his arrival. The walls have ears in that place, I am afraid. Do I make myself clear?” Serious brown eyes fixed Steve with a hard look.   
  
Steve nodded again, thinking that this particular vampire was used to being obeyed. “Yes, Tony.”  
  
Tony relaxed, his gaze warming and he seemed to slump a little more in his chair. “Good, good,” he muttered.  
  
“Maybe you should go lay down now? You do seem tired,” said Steve, worried the vampire was overdoing it.  
  
“An excellent idea, Steve,” Tony said a bit wryly. He pushed himself up and promptly swayed, knees unable to hold his weight. Steve grabbed for his arm and the vampire fell against his side. “Damn it,” Tony growled.  
  
“Let me help?” Steve asked gently, not wanting to aggravate the creature anymore. Tony nodded grudgingly, fangs bared slightly, and Steve slipped his arm gently around the other man’s waist. He helped guide the vampire out of the kitchen and back to his bedroom. Tony was a cool weight against Steve’s side as they carefully made their way down the hall. The priest stared straight ahead and forced himself not to look down. Inside the bedroom, Tony sank gratefully onto the bed, snuggling into the pillow with a sigh. Steve arranged the blankets around him and had a thought. “How did you get the door unlocked?”  
  
“Locks do not work well against me,” mumbled Tony drowsily.  
  
One of Steve’s eyebrows rose. “Vampire trick?”  
  
“Lock picking skills,” Tony said with a faint smirk, drifting off to sleep. Steve chuckled softly to not disturb him and left the room. He looked down at the lock before deciding to lock the door anyway. It might not have worked at keeping the vampire in the bedroom but it would help with keeping other people out.  
  
Steve went to his bedroom and changed out of his habit. The last thing he wanted to do was be seen at City Hall in his priest robes. It would only allow people to remember him when he thought anonymity might suit his task better. He retrieved the message from the dining table and, unable to control his curiosity, peeked inside. His efforts at snooping were in vain; while the words were written in beautiful looping penmanship, they were not a language Steve recognized. Sheepishly, Steve put the message into a pocket in his jacket and left the church.


	6. The Great Grey Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (New York City Hall and the Manhattan Municipal Building are both huge, hulking white/grey buildings but since I’m flipping Manhattan and New York and making Manhattan a city and New York like the country, you’ll forgive me if I call it Manhattan’s City Hall even if there is no such thing.)
> 
> I'm so sorry for how long it took me to post this chapter!

Manhattan’s City Hall was a monstrous hulk of a building made of grey stone that hunched in the center of the city. Every couple of years there was a movement that proposed to tear the building down and build a more appealing structure in its place to house Manhattan’s governmental body but it never got very far. There were too many arguments about costs, exactly what type of building would go up, and just who would be building it. Eventually, they ran themselves around in so many circles that the committee gave up. The best the beautification movement could do was having the building cleaned every year; so that it wasn’t quite such a dark shade of grey from the smoke and dust. City Hall was affectionately, or not so affectionately, called the Great Grey Beast because of this.

Steve didn’t have an opinion one way or another about the building. It was there, it did its function, it was fine the way it was. Of course, this was before Steve found himself trying to navigate the mid-day crowds getting up the stairs. City Hall was becoming a lot less okay in Steve’s estimation. Maybe he should have kept his priest robes on. Perhaps then people wouldn’t be quite so inclined to being so rude. 

Finally, Steve wrestled his way to the stop of the stairs. A huge painting of Mayor Fury dominated the wall in front of him and Steve bit back a sigh before turning right. At the end of the corridor, Steve could see his salvation rising up; a huge desk with carved paneling. The large bird of prey and shield emblem of Manhattan’s police force was displayed on the front of the desk. As Tony had said, the desk was manned by several clerks. Steve placed himself in the line of a middle aged brown haired woman and hoped for the best.

“How may I help you?” asked the clerk as Steve reached the head of the line.

Steve smiled, trying to extrude ‘help me’ vibes. The woman blushed slightly. “I’m looking for Bambi?” The clerk’s face fell and her eyes flickered to the left.

“I am Bambi,” said a woman with steel grey hair briskly. Bambi looked disapprovingly over a pair of spectacles at Steve.

Steve winced and awkwardly side shuffled over to the woman, earning himself a few glares from those in line. “I, um, I have a message for Chief James Rhodes from an old friend from MIT, ma’am.”

Bambi’s face did not change, no light of recognition appeared in her eyes. “Please wait by the lamp over there, sir, while I inform Chief Rhodes.” Steve nodded as Bambi hopped off her stool and disappeared through a swinging door behind the desk. He shuffled by some more glaring people and went to stand under the blue glass electric lamp at the edge of the room.

A few minutes later, almost everyone standing at the desk flinched as a door swung open and hit the wall with a bang. A tall dark skinned man in a blue police uniform strode out, closely followed by Bambi. She pointed at Steve, said something to the man, and hurried off again. The man walked quickly over to Steve. “I’m James Rhodes,” he said, gruff and harried sounding. “You have a message for me?”

Steve started and fumbled into his jacket for Tony’s message. He had been staring, trying to see if he could tell if Rhodes were some sort of creature. He didn’t have the same look about him as Tony did. Nor did the police chief move in the same way. Even injured and ill, the vampire had moved as if he had a complete sense of the space about him and every motion was measured. It was a controlled sort of grace that Steve had never seen in a human before. Steve and Rhodes moved like blocks, compared to Tony. “Yes, I… here,” muttered Steve.

Rhodes fairly snatched the message away from Steve, quickly flicking it open and scanning it. The language must have meant something to him, because a tightness around Rhodes’ eyes disappeared. He looked back up at Steve. “Is he…” He trailed off and seemed to give himself a little shake. Steve remembered Tony’s warning about the walls having ears. “Thank you for the message,” Rhodes said briskly then, before turning and striding off.

Steve waited a moment, awkward, and then slipped quietly away. He fought the crowd back to the street and was grateful to be out of the huge building. He hurried back to the church. Tony was still hopefully asleep and Steve wanted to check on the vampire to make sure he was still okay. He quickly entered the sanctuary and almost stumbled over his own feet when he saw a familiar auburn haired woman sitting in the front pew. “Peggy!” he yelped.

Peggy smiled and stood, walking down the aisle toward Steve. “Father told me you stopped by the farm yesterday. I’m sorry I missed you, Steve.” She reached up and hugged him. Steve sort of flailed his hands in the air behind her back, unsure of where to place them. He tentatively patted her shoulder blades. Peggy smelled like sunshine and the lavender that grew around the fields on the farm.

“Hello Peggy,” Steve said, pasting on a smile. He glanced up at the passage that lead to the kitchen and dormitory and prayed that Peggy had stayed in the sanctuary and the vampire had stayed in his bedroom. “What are you doing in the city?”

Peggy released him and frowned. “You know I take classes during the week at the University, Steve. I moved into an apartment by the river last spring.”

Steve did. It must have slipped his mind. There were a lot of things on his mind at the moment. “That’s right. How are classes?”

“They are going well,” said Peggy, a touch impatiently. “I have been trying to hunt you down for over a week. I was hoping you and I might be able to catch a late lunch?”

“Lunch?” squeaked Steve, going a little red. His gaze flicked up at the passage again. “I don’t think I can. I’m really busy right now.”

“Oh,” muttered Peggy, shifting backward a little. She dredged up a stiff smile. “Well, it was just a shot in the dark, I suppose.”

“I’m really sorry,” Steve said apologetically.

Peggy took another step back and waved a careless hand. “That’s fine, Steve. I understand if you’re busy.” She fiddled with a tiny purse and pulled out a pair of white gloves which she began to pull on with short, sharp tugs. “I supposed I’ll let you get on with your day then.”

“Thank you for stopping by,” Steve said as Peggy headed toward the door.

Peggy huffed at him but gave a softer smile. “You haven’t changed one bit, Steve Rogers. Still the same as you were when we were children.” Steve frowned, confused. Was that a compliment or a complaint? Peggy chuckled lightly. “Good day, Steve.” She walked briskly across the yard and out onto the street where she hailed a taxi coach. Steve watched her leave for a moment. Peggy had always confused him. She seemed to delight in being contrary. It had amused Bucky to no end, for some reason.

Steve shut the sanctuary doors and finally was able to hurry to the vampire’s bedroom in the dormitory. Thankfully the door was still locked and Tony was still sleeping, from what Steve would tell. It was still odd to see the vampire lying there not breathing but he looked peaceful anyway. “Tony?” muttered Steve. He gently rested his hand on Tony’s shoulder and shook him.

Tony’s chest moved and he muttered something, brown eyes opening into slits. “Steve?”

Steve smiled, moving his hand to feel Tony’s forehead to check for fever and promptly felt silly. The vampire’s skin was as cool as it had always been. Tony chuckled at him, sleepily stretching among the sheets. “I took your note to City Hall and gave it to Chief Rhodes,” Steve reported, perching on the side of the bed.

“Good,” said Tony. “It shouldn’t take him long to arrange transport.” Steve smiled wanly as Tony sat up, still dressed in his borrowed clothing. The vampire suddenly leaned in close to Steve and took a deep breath. “Who is the woman?” Tony asked with a smirk.

Steve blinked. “I… what?”

“The woman, Steve!” exclaimed Tony with a teasing smile. “Wearing a bit too much lavender scent for my tastes and has been down by the river recently. That woman?” The vampire leaned in closer and Steve felt his nose brush his cheek, cool air puffing across his cheek. Steve froze and Tony chuckled. “Oh, she is annoyed with you too. What did you do? Insult her clothing? Her hair?”

“No! Of course not! Peggy is a lovely woman,” protested Steve.

“Lovely, huh?” echoed Tony, displeasure lurking in his voice. He ran a finger over Steve’s shoulder curiously. “Is this lovely woman a friend? You got close to her.” Tony flicked his fingers as if getting rid of something distasteful. “Did you hug her? Did you kiss her?”

“She’s just an old friend, Tony. I’ve known her since we were kids and she wasn’t annoyed. Peggy just came to see if I was free for lunch, that’s all.”

Tony stared at him for a long moment and then flopped back onto the pillow with a laugh. “Oh, you are something else, Steve! Just precious!”

“What is that supposed to mean?” demanded Steve, confused and increasingly irritated. Tony merely shook his head, grinning like the fiend he was. Steve gave an aggravated sigh and reached over to pull up the vampire’s borrowed shirt. “How are your wounds doing?” he asked. Steve almost couldn’t tell where Tony had been wounded. He had to move the lamp close in the dim room in order to see the three faint lines were the horrible gouges used to be.

“My, somebody is forward,” said Tony softly. Steve looked up at him, suddenly aware that he had pushed the vampire’s shirt up without a single by your leave and was prodding the area along his ribs with careful fingers. Tony’s eyes glittered in the lamp light, a faint smile curling his lips.

Steve dropped the shirt and leapt from the bed, face growing as hot as an ember. He coughed, embarrassed, and found the other wall to suddenly be fascinating. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“I didn’t say I minded,” Tony teased, sitting up. The oversized shirt fell back down over his stomach, much to Steve’s relief.

“Umm. When do you think your friend will come for you?” blurted Steve.

Tony’s smile slipped away and he looked down, elegant fingers beginning to pick at the blanket. “It shouldn’t take more than a few hours for Rhodes to get word to the right people. I should be gone before nightfall.”

Steve frowned at the vampire’s suddenly more subdued attitude. “What about the hellhounds?”

Tony curled around the pillow again, closing his eyes. “They shouldn’t bother you after I’m gone.” He turned his face away and Steve wished he had some way to tell if the vampire were really resting. The creature just didn’t breathe unless he was speaking.

Steve huffed. “I have chores to complete. Are you going to get some more sleep?” Tony nodded, face buried in the bedding. “Okay…” Steve raised his hand, hesitating over touching the vampire’s shoulder. “Okay,” he muttered again, dropped his hand. He left the bedroom, not bothering to lock it this time. Steve made his way down the hallway to the kitchen, confused as to what happened. Tony was so bewildering, even worse now that he was talking. One moment he was polite and the next he was teasing. His attitude waxed and waning, one moment friendly and then he was suddenly aloof.

Steve took the dishes from lunch and washed them, trying to keep his hands busy. He would miss the vampire and he would probably never be able to look at another person again without wondering if he was really looking at a human being but Steve knew that Tony had his own life, had people who were worried and coming for him. Steve didn’t have any part in that. He was just a priest of a small city parish. It wasn’t possible for them to be friends or… anything else. Steve touched the inside of his wrist, where the vampire had fed twice, and left to sweep the sanctuary.

It was as the sun was slowly sinking toward the horizon, a little over two hours since Steve had delivered the message, when a small but finely appointed carriage pulled up in front of the church. Steve paused in raking leaves from the yard, confused. The carriage was pulled by a pair of black horses and, from what Steve could tell, the driver perched on the high seat wore a silk coat. It was much too refined a carriage for the area. Steve was just thinking about going to see if they needed something when the door to the carriage flung open and a woman burst out, springing down the step without assistance and striding across the yard to the church’s front doors. Strawberry blonde hair curled over her shoulders but her face was obscured by the hood of her rich velvet cloak.

“Ma’am? May I help you?” called Steve as the woman hurried past him and briskly opened the doors to the sanctuary. She did not answer and disappeared inside. Steve leaned the rake against the wall and went after her, thinking she was in some sort of distress. The church didn’t often get visitors from the gentry, unless you counted the… oh. The woman reappeared from the passage that led to the dormitory. Tony was now bundled into a cloak, much like the woman’s own. Steve could only see the very bottom of his chin among the folds.

The woman was helping Tony through the nave, the pair quickly making their way out the front doors. “Tony?” called Steve, a little lost. There was no answer. They crossed the yard and were almost at the carriage when Tony pulled back a little, saying something to the woman that Steve couldn’t understand from the distance. She replied in a low tone, shaking her head, and they started forward again. Tony was quickly guided up and inside the carriage. He leaned out through the doorway, speaking more loudly this time. Steve heard his own name from where he stood rooted at the church’s front doors.

The woman pushed Tony back into the shadows of the carriage and strode back across the churchyard to the priest. She pressed a small pouch into Steve’s hands. “For your troubles,” the woman muttered, mouth a thin pressed line from what Steve could see under the hood. She crossed the yard briskly again, stopping at the low stone wall. A small knife flash in the sunlight and Steve saw her press a bloody thumbprint onto each side of the wall entrance. Then she too was up into the carriage and the driver was clucking at the horses. The carriage pulled away and Steve was left alone, curiously feeling like he had been abandoned. He pulled at the strings of the pouch the woman had given him and gold winked at him from inside. The pouch was heavy, the money would do the church and community a lot of good. Steve felt it was not enough to replace what he suspected he had just lost.

That night after Tony had left, Steve drifted around the church. He felt bereft and aimless, like he was in mourning. Which was ridiculous but Steve couldn’t stop his heart from cracking. He hadn’t even gotten to properly say goodbye. He was walking past a window when a shape in the churchyard grabbed his attention. Steve froze, going cold. The hellhound sat outside the stone wall, staring at the church. Its yellow eyes glowed in the dark and around its feet several smaller dark shapes wandered. The hellhound lowered its head and seemed to sniff at the wall, where the woman had left two smudges of blood. To Steve’s surprise, the beast jerked back and turned away, drifting off into the dark. The smaller shapes disappeared as well. Steve quickly barred the front door and went to hide in his bedroom but he never heard any howling and the hellhounds never appeared again.


	7. A Craving for Sweet Things

Over the next two days, Steve used the money the woman had given him to replace the ruined front doors of the church and complete a few repairs. It was nice to finally get the crack in the west wall of the sanctuary fixed. Then he carefully portioned the rest out to support the local soup kitchen, shelter, and orphanage. The gold was more than enough to run the various charities for over a year. Then Steve tried to forget he had ever met a certain vampire.  
  
It did not work very well. Steve went to hide in his office. He just could not get rid of the feeling that he had lost something precious. He tried to write his next sermon and select which Bible verses he would recite but Steve found it very hard to concentrate. It was almost a relief when he was interrupted by a knock on his door. He recognized one of the distinctive navy blue and gold uniforms on the delivery boy as being from one of the best bakeries in the city, La Luna. “May I help you?” Steve asked in confusion.  
  
“Delivery for you, Father Rogers,” said the boy, hefting a white cake box and a wine caddy.  
  
Steve stood with a frown. “But I didn’t order anything.” La Luna was much too expensive, even for a treat, and Steve wouldn’t waste money like that.  
  
“A gift, Father,” explained the delivery boy. “Lady Potts is a regular customer of ours.”  
  
“Oh.” The name wasn’t familiar to Steve. He looked distractedly across his desk. “Hold on. Let me get you something for a tip.”  
  
“No need, sir. The lady has already provided me with a tip. All I need is for you to sign a delivery slip, sir.” Bemused, Steve scrawled his name across the pad. The boy nodded and placed his packages neatly on the desk. “Good day, Father.”  
  
“Good day,” called Steve faintly as the boy left. It was very odd to see a young boy act so professional. Normally Steve was yelling at boys that age not to throw rocks at the taxi carriage horses. There was a white envelop attached to the cake box and Steve prayed it held some answers.  
  
‘We enjoy sweets,’ the card stated in sharp, straight handwriting. ‘He will call on you this afternoon. Make sure to chill the wine.’  
  
Well, the message was very unhelpful. Steve opened the wine cabby and almost dropped the bottle of fine red wine. He set it gently on his desk, afraid to touch it in case he broke it. It cost more than the pouch of gold Steve had just spent. The thought caused Steve’s eyes to narrow. It couldn’t be. Tony was gone forever, out of Steve’s life. But a stubborn sliver of hope grew in Steve’s chest. He very carefully took the cake and wine to the kitchen and placed them in the icebox. Then he attacked the wooden pews in the nave with lemon polish until his fingers ached more than his heart.  
  
Steve was nicely settled into the rhythm of physical labor, mind a comfortable blank. So he nearly startled out of his skin when a familiar chirp came from the front doors. Tony was standing in the doorway, sunlight spilling in around him. He was wearing proper clothing; a white shirt and black pants with a deep blue waistcoat under a stylish short black jacket. A silver watch chain hung from his pocket and a pair of darkened spectacles sat on his nose. The vampire looked healthy, skin the color of a rip peach and his brown eyes were full of life. Tony took off his hat, pulling off his gloves and spectacles and tucking them inside. “It really is a lovely church,” he said lightly with a warm smile. “I thought it was but I was a bit out of it the first time I saw it.”  
  
Steve’s brain began to churn again, realizing that Tony was indeed standing before him and that the vampire was standing in a bright patch of noonday sun. He rushed toward him, grabbing the startled vampire by the shoulders and forcing him back a few steps so he was in the shadows again. “Have you lost your mind?  Where are you burnt?” he demanded shrilly.  
  
“What in heavens are you talking about?” asked Tony, surprised.  
  
“The sunlight, of course! I have ointments for the burns. I can…” Steve trailed off as the vampire laughed softly.  
  
“Dear Steve. Always so quick to protect,” said an amused Tony. “For a healthy vampire, sunlight is nothing more than a mild irritant. I am unharmed.”  
  
Steve glanced over him but couldn’t see any of the horrible crusty burned skin he expected to find. “The sun doesn’t burn you?” Steve asked in confusion.  
  
“No. Sunlight may make a weakened vampire ill but we will not burn like the Forsaken do.”  
  
“Forsaken?”  
  
Tony sighed, stroking a hand along Steve’s shoulder. “Is there somewhere we may talk in private? I will explain as much as I can.”  
  
“Sure. Let’s go into the kitchen.” And several facts fell into place for Steve. “I have cake from La Luna,” he said wryly.  
  
“Cake?” echoed Tony, eyes lightening up.  
  
“Apparently a Lady Potts saw fit to send me a little gift.”  
  
Tony chuckled, following Steve up the arcade and through the passage. “Ah. Pepper does know me well. I trust she sent wine as well?”  
  
Steve nodded as they entered the kitchen and Tony settled himself at the table, laying his hat aside. The priest fished the cake box and wine bottle from the icebox. “The note said that you like sweets?” Steve asked, curious.  
  
“Indeed. A failing among vampires, I’m afraid. We seem to crave the sugar.”  
  
Steve brought the food to the table. “I’ll find something to open the wine with.”  
  
“You needn’t bother,” announced Tony, snatching the bottle up. He ran his thumbnail around the top of the bottle, a high pitched ringing noise sounding, and neatly popped it off, cork and all. “Now that, was a vampire trick,” he told Steve cheekily. Steve grinned and fetched some glasses. Tony cut the string on the cake box with a swipe of his fingernail and lifted the lid. “Lemon sugar,” he observed happily. He picked up the knife Steve had brought and cut two thick slices, carefully transferring them onto the plates. Steve brought the glasses to the table and stared as Tony took a bite of cake, a little trill sounding in his throat. “My favorite,” Tony said, licking the spoon.  
  
Steve blinked and sat down with a plop. He winced at the sound. He felt unwieldy and inelegant when faced with the vampire. “Who is Lady Potts? Um, Pepper you called her?” The priest took a bite of the cake, sweetness and a delicate lemon flavor bursting across his tongue.  
  
Tony picked up the wine bottle and poured some in each glass with a sigh. “Pepper, or Virginia Potts as it were, is my right hand woman. She is indispensable to me and takes care of both my household and a great deal of my business. I would be lost without her help and support.” The vampire picked up his glass and swirled the wine, the liquid as red as blood.  
  
Steve felt something lodge in his throat like a hot coal and was afraid it was jealousy. “Is she a vampire?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.  
  
Tony hesitated before nodding. “She is. Pepper is also my Childe.”  
  
Steve coughed, his mouthful of wine going down the wrong pipe in surprise. “But she is a grown woman!” he exclaimed when he could.  
  
Tony chuckled, shaking his head. “No, Steve. I mean I was the one who turned her, made her into a vampire.”  
  
“Oh.” Steve caught himself rubbing at his throat and quickly dropped his hand. “Can I ask…?”  
  
Tony lowered his eyes, spoon dragging through the icing of the cake. “I was hunting a Forsaken through the York plains. I had fallen behind following a false trail and had to backtrack to find the beast again. By the time I was able to hunt it down once more, it had already attacked a farm near the Hudson River.” Tony set his spoon down carefully.  “It was…horrible. The carnage was absolute and the whole family was dead but somehow Pepper was still alive. Just barely but it was enough that I was able to remove the poison from her veins and turn her properly.” A slight smile curled his lips. “Her youngest brother had crawled into a hole in the barn and was untouched, amazingly. They both live with me now. So, Pepper is my Childe. I turned her.”  
  
Steve sat still in his chair, working between revulsion at the idea of any human being turned into a vampire and the knowledge that Tony had saved this woman’s life by turning her. The information that Tony and Virginia Potts were not the beasts that Steve thought vampires were swirled in his mind. Both were something different, something unseen before by the priest. Tony watched him from under his lashes. Steve swallowed, the sweetness from the cake now turning his stomach. “What’s a forsaken?”  
  
“First, there is something you must understand,” Tony said, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. “Centuries ago all vampires were like I am. Sane, rational, and wholly unlike the creatures that plague humankind now. Yes, we need to ingest blood but it wasn’t the frenzy that those beasts display today. We lived side by side with humans very peacefully. But long ago a virus began to spread among the vampire population, an insanity where a vampire loses all reason and humanity. They become like animals, monsters in form and thought. Only a small portion of the vampire population turned out to be immune to the virus. Those vampires that succumbed to the virus are called the Forsaken.”  
  
“And it is these Forsaken that tear people apart and drain them of blood? That kill?”  
  
“Yes. An immune vampire feeds, well, like I did with you. Ideally, both a vampire and those we are feeding on get something from the act.”  
  
“What?” blurted Steve, stunned.  
  
Tony smirked. “You are not abnormal for feeling pleasure when I fed on you, Steve. You are supposed to. Many people seek a vampire’s bite because of the pleasurable sensations it produces.” Steve turned red, his mouth flapping open and closed but no words emerged. The vampire chuckled.  
  
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Steve said stiffly.  
  
“If that is what you wish to think,” Tony said simply, taking a bite of cake.  
  
Steve snatched up his wine glass and took a huge gulp, trying to will himself to calm down. “Who turned you? Into a vampire, I mean,” he asked, unable to help himself.  
  
“No one. I was born a vampire. My parents were both vampires, as were their parents and so forth back for many generations. My family line is very old.”  
  
“You mean, you can…um…” Steve drifted off, thinking that he was being terribly rude.  
  
“Have children?” clarified an amused Tony. “Of course we can.”  
  
“What about…with a human?”  
  
Tony cocked an eyebrow and Steve felt himself blushing again. “A vampire can have a child with a human, yes. It is not easy and there is an equal chance the child will be human or a vampire,” replied Tony. “Should I go into more detail?”  
  
“No!” yelped Steve, cheeks on fire. He covered his eyes with one palm and leaned against the table. “Please don’t,” he groaned. He’d never been more embarrassed in his life. Of course, Tony laughed at him.  
  
“You should feel honored, Steve. You have unprecedented access to information about vampires. It is not often one of my kind sits down in someone’s kitchen and answers their every question,” said Tony. He finished the last bite of his piece of cake and eyed the box.  
  
“Are there many of you in the city?” Steve asked. He remembered wondering how many vampires like Tony, those who seemed so human like, might be in the supposedly vampire free city of Manhattan.  
  
“There are eighty two vampires in the city at the moment,” replied Tony, pulling the cake box over to himself. “Soon to be eighty three.”  
  
“Soon to be?”  
  
Tony smirked. “One of them is pregnant.”  
  
“Of course,” muttered Steve. He was sorry he even asked at this point. Tony was on his second piece of cake by then, using the pad of his finger to pick up stray sugar crystals and licking them off. The flash of red tongue was very distracting. Steve thought about how many vampires Tony said was in the city. There were so many of them, more than Steve could comfortable think of, but at the same time there were so few. There were thousands of people in Manhattan. Eighty two was a mere drop in the bucket, as they say.  
  
Steve tensed as Tony’s head snapped up, spoon frozen midair. “What is it?” the priest asked, mind jumping to hellhounds and other beasts attacking the church, even if it was board daylight.  
  
“Are you expecting another visitor?” asked Tony, his mouth opening slightly and taking a deep breath, rolling the scents across his tongue. The vampire’s face tightened. “A Hunter?”  
  
“Oh!” gasped Steve. What a moron he was! He’d completely forgotten. “Bucky. We’re supposed to have lunch.” He stood quickly. “I’ll lead him away and you can sneak out the back.” He had to keep Bucky away from Tony. He didn’t know what he would do if the Hunter attacked the vampire.  
  
“Too late,” muttered Tony.  
  
Bucky strode into the kitchen, even scruffier around the face than Steve had last seen him and still wearing his long brown coat. Steve saw Tony wrinkle his nose. “Steve!” greeted Bucky, happy and excited. “Good to see you again.”  
  
Steve grunted as his friend clapped him in a hearty hug, slapping his back. “It’s good to see you too, Bucky.” He looked closely at Bucky’s face. His eyes were shining and slightly maniac. He looked drunk but Steve couldn’t smell anything on his breath. “How are you?” Steve asked cautiously.  
  
“I’m doing good,” replied Bucky, positive in a way Steve couldn’t remember seeing him in a long time. Bucky shifted with nervous energy. Tony slowly stood from his seat, a thoughtful look on his face. Bucky zeroed in on the movement. “Lord Stark!” he exclaimed in surprise. Steve blinked, glancing at the icebox and the name inscribed on the door. Stark? As in, Stark Industries? Meaning Anthony Stark, owner and head of the company and the richest man in the city? Steve turned to stare at the vampire. “What are you doing here?” asked Bucky  
  
Tony mouth tightened even as he smiled at Bucky. “Father Rogers recently did me a favor. I was just paying him a visit. Burnes, was it?”  
  
“Barnes, my lord. James Barnes.” Bucky shook Tony’s hand, practically grabbing it from his side. “I must say, those new double bladed swords you came out with in the spring are fantastic. They take a vamp’s head off like cutting through paper.”  
  
Tony’s face remained bland, brown eyes turned chilly. “I’m glad they have worked so well for you.” He prized his hand out of Bucky’s grip and picked up his hat. “I’m obviously interrupting a planned engagement. I think I shall take my leave. Good day, Father Rogers.” Tony gave Steve a small smile. He then gave Bucky a nod and strode from the kitchen.  
  
“Wow, Steve! Lord Stark. You’ve been moving up in the world,” teased Bucky with a huge grin. “Do we get to keep the cake?”  
  
“Help yourself,” Steve said quickly. “I’m going to see Lord Stark out of the church.” Bucky fell upon the half-finished cake as Steve hurried out of the kitchen and back out into the sanctuary. Tony was standing in the doorway, pulling on a glove with hard tugs. “Lord Stark!” Steve called.  
  
Tony jerked his head up, a glare on his face. He softened as Steve neared. “I am sorry for my rudeness, Steve. I was not expecting a Hunter here or to have one blurt out my secrets.”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me? About who you are, I mean.”  
  
“It would have served no purpose before,” Tony said with a shake of his head. “I had offered you my name and I have no other wish than for you to continue to call me by it.”  
  
Steve grinned. “Sure Tony.”  
  
Tony gave him a thin smile. “Your friend is in grave danger, Steve,” he said seriously.  
  
“Bucky? Yeah, he’s a hot head. Sorry about him,” said Steve with embarrassment.  
  
Tony shook his head, a grim look on his face. “He plays a dangerous game as a Hunter and I fear he is no longer taking the proper precautions to safeguard his humanity. Be careful with him, Steve. Barnes seems to be in a good mood now but he will be more aggressive and short tempered than usual. Perhaps even violent.”  
  
Steve gave a tentative bewildered smile. “Bucky is always aggressive and short tempered. That’s nothing new. And he’d never hurt anyone who didn’t have it coming to them.”  
  
Tony huffed. “I am serious, Steve. Be careful. And whatever you do, don’t let him bite you.”  
  
“Bite me!?” yelped Steve.  
  
The priest did not see the vampire move but suddenly Tony’s bare hand was cupping his cheek. His skin was as cool and soft as Steve remembered, even as his own face went hot. “Promise me you will be careful,” pleaded Tony, worry in his eyes. “I could not bear it if anything were to happen to you.”  
  
“I promise,” Steve said helplessly. He would promise Tony anything at this point.  
  
Tony smiled gently and swept his fingers down Steve’s skin before dropping his hand. He took a step back and tugged his jacket straight. “Good. See that you do. Now, I would call on you again soon, if you will have me?”  
  
Steve smiled, shaking his head in amusement. “Of course you can, Tony. Don’t be silly.”  
  
Tony smiled, ducking his head and putting his hat and the darkened spectacles back on. “Until then. Good day, Steve.” He then strode across the churchyard. Steve watched as, just like the woman had done, Tony paused at the stone wall. There was a quick flash of a knife and the vampire pressed two red smudges of blood to either side of the gate. He then walked down the street to where the small fine carriage was waiting. The man lounging in the driver’s seat jumped down and opened the door, tipping his hat to the lord. Tony heaved himself inside and the door was closed behind him. The two black horses snorted as the driver hopped back up and clicked his teeth, guiding the beasts away from the curb and down the street. Steve watched until the carriage was completely out of sight.


	8. Bloodlust & Moon Madness

Once Steve could no longer see Tony’s carriage, he returned to the kitchen. Bucky was sitting at the table, mashing his spoon into the pale yellow icing of the cake. “Sorry about that, Bucky,” said Steve. “It was a bit of a surprise having Lord Stark show up like that.”  
  
“Moving up in the world, are we Steve?” asked Bucky snidely, glaring down at the table. “Breaking bread with a lord and all that?”  
  
Steve’s smile faltered and he pausing in sitting. “I don’t know what you mean. Lord Stark was just showing his thanks for my help.”  
  
“And what did a priest of a little Brooklyn parish do for a member of the peerage?” Bucky demanded, lifting his glare to Steve.  
  
Steve wished he hadn’t laughed off Tony’s warning as easily as he had. He’d seen Bucky angry before; he’d always had a quick temper when they were teens, but Steve had never seen Bucky glare at him like that before. “Are you okay, Bucky? You seem a little stressed,” Steve asked cautiously.  
  
Bucky slapped his palm against the table, unsetting the plate and making Steve jump. The cake and spoon flipped onto the floor. “I’m fine, damn it! Why does everyone keep asking if I’m fucking okay?” Bucky shouted. Steve couldn’t help himself; he took a step back. Bucky seemed to catch himself at the movement, giving a little shake of his head and rubbing at his face. “Shit. Sorry, Steve. I guess I’m just a little tired and snappish.”  
  
“Is something wrong, Bucky? You know you can talk to me,” Steve said, going for the ‘we’re best buds’ tone of voice he often used on young children.  
  
For a second, anger twisted Bucky’s face again but then he seemed to fight it back. “Nah. Everything is fine,” he insisted. He glanced down at the ruined cake and winced. “Sorry about the cake.”  
  
Steve shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up later.” He didn’t want Bucky to dwell on it. His friend seemed to be on edge in a way Steve had never seen before. “You need to vent about anything?” Steve asked hesitantly. That had been a sure fire way to get Bucky to rant about whatever problem had been bugging him when they were younger, leading to many teenaged angst filled monologues about this, that, or another.  
  
Bucky sagged in his chair, scowling. “It’s just those idiots at the Guild. The Council. Sticking their noses where they don’t belong.” He smacked the table again, more gently this time. “I’m a good Hunter, damn it all! I get the job done! Those asshats wouldn’t know what to do with a vamp if it walked up to them nice as you please!”  
  
Steve pressed his lips, thinking the same thing of Bucky. “Did something happen?”  
  
“I’ve been put on probation!” exclaimed Bucky. He stood, knocking over his chair. “I’m one of their best Hunters and I’ve been put on the bench! Can you fucking believe it?” Steve watched as Bucky’s eyes sparkled with anger, wide and liquid as if he were drunk. Bucky hit the table again with a growl. The piece of furniture groaned in protest. “We’ve got vamps rampaging through the York Plains and I’m here sitting on my ass!” he shouted.  
  
“Bucky, calm down. They must have a reason. I’m sure you’ll be out in the field again soon,” Steve tried to sooth.  
  
Bucky snorted and rubbed roughly at his nose while glaring down at his dirty boots. “We gonna go out for lunch or not? I thought we were going to Lucy’s place?”  
  
Steve nodded. “If you still want to?”  
  
“Course I want to!” Bucky exclaimed with a too wide grin. “I wanna spend some time with my best bud.”  
  
“Alright. Just let me change and we’ll head out.” Steve hurried from the kitchen and striped off his priest habit in his bedroom, exchanging them for tan pants and a plain shirt. He was now convinced that something was very wrong with his friend.   
  
Lunch was a strained affair. Lucy’s Pub was a small place with dark wooden walls and old stone floors. It had been the neighborhood gathering place ever since Steve and Bucky had been children running around in short pants, driving the orphanage nuns crazy. The ceiling was obscured by a smoky hood from the pipes of the old men gathered around the bar. A group of younger farmhands were conducting a rowdy game of darts near the back wall. A couple ladies were occupying the tables near the windows, holding babies in their laps and sipping dainty glasses of sweet liqueur. The loud rumble of conversation filled the building and the smell of roasting meat drifted from the kitchen.  
  
Steve and Bucky took a table by the unlit fireplace. Bucky loudly demanded beers and Steve didn’t say a thing, although he didn’t enjoy drinking. The dark haired man was crackling with energy, like a powder keg waiting to go off. A man sitting next to them got up and fled to the bar. Steve looked worriedly at his friend as Bucky ordered beef sandwiches. He’d never seen Bucky this jumpy before, one minute grinning and the next growling into his drink. The men around the dartboard eyed them warily, as if sensing a storm brewing. One of the infants began to wail.  
  
“Shut that little brat up!” yelled Bucky with a scowl. The women gave them both displeased looks. The men around the bar tensed, muttering to each other.  
  
“It’s okay, Bucky,” Steve said, leaning forward to catch Bucky’s drifting gaze. “Why don’t you tell me about your latest hunt? How did it go?” In truth, Bucky’s vampire hunting was the last thing Steve wanted to listen to. The thought of Tony being killed, deep brown eyes staring up sightlessly, made Steve feel sick.  
  
Bucky grinned. His hunting exploits was always a conversation he could get into. “I was up near the Islands of Long a couple of months ago, tracking a small group of vamps along York Harbor. We were getting close to the Suffolk townships and Dum Dum wanted to take them out before they got any closer to civilization.” Bucky licked lips and leaned forward across the table, eyes gleaming with excitment. “You should have seen them, Steve. They were the most disgusting vamps I’ve seen yet. All their hair had fallen out and their skin was covered in leaking boils and rot. Worst things I’d ever smelled in my life too, even the garbage pit behind the kiddy home wasn’t as bad as this lot. They had dried blood all over their faces and down their chests, wearing tattered rags for clothing and practically walking on all fours, their knees bent back at the wrong angle. ” Steve stared at his friend with horror as he described the vampires. He realized these creatures were the Forsaken that Tony had talked about, those vampires that had been ravaged by some unknown disease and from which Tony and his ilk were immune.  The Forsaken were nothing more than beasts, bent and deformed and deadly in their insatiable hunger. Bucky looked as if Steve’s pale face pleased him, although Steve’s revulsion was not for the reason Bucky likely thought.  
  
Steve jumped as one of the young men playing darts laid a heavy hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Maybe that’s not the right type of conversation to be having here, mate,” said the man tightly.  
  
Steve jerked his head around. Everyone in the pub was silent, staring in horror and disgust at him and Bucky. A couple steps away a waitress stood with their food, face so white it looked like she’d faint at any moment. The women by the windows looked similarly shocked, a few of the older children crying softly. “I’m so sorry,” Steve gasped.  
  
Bucky brushed the hand off his shoulder. “I’m a free man. This is a free city. I can have any conversation I want, mate,” sneered Bucky.  
  
“Bucky, please,” pleaded Steve. “They’re right. Talk of vampires is best done elsewhere.”  
  
“Listen to your friend,” the man said, “and talk about something else.” The men around the bar and the dartboard grumbled and muttered a little.  
  
Bucky gripped the edges of the table and squeezed until his knuckled were white. “I suggest you go back to your friends and I’ll talk about whatever the hell I want.” The wood of the table groaned under the pressure.   
  
The man scowled. “I think it’s time for you to find yourself another eating establishment, gentlemen.”  
  
Bucky moved so quickly that nobody had time to react before he had the other man dangling in the air from his fist, choking as fingers wrapped around his neck. “I’ll damn well eat wherever I damn well please,” growled Bucky, shaking the man like a ragdoll. The waitress dropped her tray and hightailed it back to the kitchen while the woman and children sitting by the windows rushed out of the door.  
  
“Bucky no!” shouted Steve as the other farmhands rushed forward to help their friend. Someone picked up a chair and swung it at Bucky’s back. The Hunter barely swayed as the chair broke against him and Bucky turned to throw the man he was holding up in the air into the group of men. “James Buchanan Barnes, stop it right now!” Steve shoved at Bucky, trying get him out of the door. The priest was no longer a skinny little teenager, hard work on the farms had filled him out, but even then Bucky only jerked forward a step as Steve put all his weight behind the shove. Bucky turned to snarl in Steve’s face, one fist raised for a punch. Bucky’s eyes were blood shot and his face was twisted with hate and anger and Steve was forced to admit that for the first time in his life, he was afraid of his friend. Tony’s warning now seemed more ominous than ever. “Bucky!”  
  
The other man lurched to a stop, eyes dancing around like he was coming out of some sort of nightmare. Bucky grunted, dropping his hand and storming from the pub, shoving chairs and tables out of his way. People scrambled away from him, eyes wide. “I’m very sorry,” Steve said, hurrying out of the door after his friend. He found Bucky at the corner, standing with his forehead pressed against the wall and one fist lightly beating the brick. “Bucky, are you okay?” Steve asked softly, coming up to him.  
  
Bucky groaned, grinding his forehead into the wall. “It’s no good, Steve. No good at all,” he muttered. He pulled his arm back and punched the wall with a growl, dust and bits of mortar raining down.  
  
“What’s no good, Bucky?”  
  
The other man jerked away suddenly, a look of complete and utter terror on his ashen face. “It’s no good!” Bucky shouted, stumbling up the sidewalk. “I can’t be here. I can’t be around people right now.”  
  
“Bucky, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” Steve asked, following him stubbornly.  
  
“Everything is wrong!” cried Bucky brokenly. “It’s no good. I can’t be here. You can’t be around me. Nobody can be around me.”  
  
“Bucky, what...?”  
  
“Gotta go. Gotta go,” Bucky muttered drunkenly. He suddenly took off down the road at a run, scattering people out of his path. “It’s not safe!”  
  
“Bucky stop!” Steve shouted, taking off after him. But Bucky was a Hunter, no matter how odd he was behaving, and soon Steve lost him in the crowd of people between one turn and the next. “Bucky?” he called, trying to see over people’s heads. “Bucky!” It was no use, the other man was gone.


	9. An Invitation to Dinner

After the disastrous lunch on Friday with Bucky, Steve spent his Saturday searching for his friend. He used the phone at the post office down the street to call Bucky but the old matron that answered the shared building phone said Bucky was not in. Steve left a message and then went to the tiny apartment Bucky stayed at when he was in the city. He pounded at the door, shouting for Bucky to open up. He charmed the key out of the matron but the apartment was empty when Steve opened it. Wherever Bucky was, he didn’t want to be found. Desperate, Steve rang City Hall and was transferred around until he reached some bored sounding young man in the Hunters Guild. He left a message with the clerk and then another in the afternoon. Nobody ever called him back. It was as if Bucky had merely disappeared.  
  
Steve was anxious and tired when he woke up on Sunday and set about getting ready for the Sunday mass. Honestly, his thoughts were so occupied by Bucky and his disappearance that the woman’s appearance just as the service began startled him into almost falling over the chancel steps. Steve almost didn’t recognize her but her long strawberry blond hair was too familiar. She wasn’t wearing the long cloak she had been when she’d come for Tony but instead she wore a very fashionable dress in a pale blue. It was a finer piece of clothing than anybody in the neighborhood had a chance of owning. The other congregation members stared as she sat herself gracefully on the last pew. Steve fidgeted all through his sermon and waited impatiently for the choir to get through their program. He could feel the woman’s blue eyes resting coolly upon him.  
  
She disappeared near the end and Steve had a horrible time getting the congregation and the other stragglers out of the church so he could go look for her. He hoped she simply hadn’t left. People finally departed when they convinced themselves the mysterious woman was gone too and there was nothing else of interest to keep them from their Sunday lunches and games of ball in the park. Steve was never more grateful to close the church doors after the last of the choir group in his life. Hopefully the woman was still lurking about and Steve would get a chance to talk with her. He turned back around and nearly leapt out of his skin.  
  
The woman cocked an eyebrow and turned to walk up the nave to the chancel and altar. Steve watched as she crossed herself and curtsied in front of the cross before sitting down on the front pew. The priest gathered his nerves and went to sit next to her, leaving a couple of feet of space between them. “Hello,” he said shyly.  
  
“Hello, Father Rogers,” the woman said in a firm but pleasant voice. “I am Lady Virginia Potts.” Steve blinked. So, this was Tony’s right hand woman and provider of lemon sugar cakes. This meant she was also Tony’s Childe and a vampire. Steve tensed, not knowing what was going to happen. He didn’t think she was going to attack him, if merely because he was sure Tony would be at least mildly upset if he were eaten. He held onto the knowledge that Tony and Lady Potts were not like the vampires he’d been taught to fear as a child. He was perfectly safe. He hoped. Lady Potts smiled at him, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking and found him amusing. Tony often did the same thing. He had the sudden thought that maybe vampires actually could read minds, he had no way to know otherwise, and tried to school his thought so he didn’t think of anything insulting. Of course, the thought of Lady Potts’ very white petticoats rushed to the front of his mind. Mortified, Steve quickly directed his thoughts elsewhere and automatically thought of Tony’s eyes, sparkly red or deep brown. Lady Potts’ smile grew, a hint of fang poking out over her lips.  
  
“Hello, Lady Potts,” Steve croaked, humiliated. “What brings you to my humble church?”  
  
“It may be humble by your own admission but it really is a lovely church,” replied Lady Potts.  
  
Tony had said much the same thing when he visited on Friday. Steve glanced around the sanctuary. It was an old church, showing its age and wear despite Steve’s attempts at upkeep. Still, he was proud of it. “Thank you.”  
  
Lady Potts chuckled lightly. “I think you misunderstand me. We seek shelter when we are injured. Lord Stark would never have come here if your church felt at all negative. If speaks well of you and your efforts, Father Rogers.” Steve blinked around the church but all he could see was the worn pews and dusty corners. If the vampires sensed something from the church then it was not something Steve could pick up on. “I would like to offer you my sincerest thanks and gratitude for aiding Lord Stark, Father Rogers. When he did not return, we feared the worst. We were very relieved when you delivered his message to Chief Rhodes.”  
  
“It was nothing,” stammered Steve, blushing.  
  
“You and I both know it was not.” Lady Potts stood, smoothing down her skirt. “Do you have much more you need to do? You should change before we leave.”  
  
“Leave for where?”  
  
Lady Potts smiled a touch more warmly than she had before. “Lord Stark has extended a dinner invitation to you for this evening. We are expected at the manor.” Steve flushed with pleasure because Tony had remembered and wanted to see him again. Then he blanched as the true meaning of the lady’s words sank in. Lady Potts’ smile thinned, turning concerned. “Is something wrong? Is that not to your liking?”  
  
“I don’t have anything to wear!” gasped Steve. “I don’t have a suit or even a fancy jacket. I don’t have anything suitable for the table of a lord.” He wasn’t going to dinner with Tony looking like he crawled out of a barn.  
  
Lady Potts blinked and then started laughing. Steve stared at her, thinking she looked much lovelier with a true smile on her face. “Dear Father, you could wear a potato sack and Lord Stark wouldn’t care one wit. It does not matter what you wear.”  
  
“I want to be presentable,” protested Steve.  
  
Lady Potts grinned at him. “Alright, we’ll try our best. Let’s see what we have to work with.” With that, the lady strode off down the arcade and through the passageway that led to the dormitory. For a moment, Steve sat frozen in the pew, bemused, before jumping up and hurrying after her. He found her in front of the bedrooms. “This is your chamber, correct?” she asked, going inside without waiting for Steve’s answer. Lady Potts threw open the door to the wardrobe and began to rummage through the clothing inside.  
  
Steve felt his face heat in embarrassment. He was sure it was not proper for a lady to be going through his things. “My lady, please. You don’t have to do this.”  
  
Lady Potts paused, turning an assessing look at the priest. She clicked her tongue. “Call me Pepper. The Good Lord knows that with the way Tony has been going on about you the past few days I feel like I’ve known you for years. We’re definitely past titles and last names by this point.” She grinned at him wickedly. “You don’t mind if I call you Steve, do you?” He shook his head, feeling run over. Lady Potts – Pepper – chuckled.  
  
“Tony talks about me?” asked Steve, surprised and pleased.  
  
“Oh, it’s been Steve this and Steve that for hours. He’s driving all of us utterly mad,” replied Pepper, pulling a pair of tan work pants out. They were Steve’s best pair, by pure fact that he hadn’t had a chance to get them dirty and ruin them yet. Pepper looked for any stains or tears on the pants and then laid them out on the bed. She went looking for a shirt.  
  
“I hope it’s only been good things,” Steve muttered.  
  
“He’s been singing your praises to the rafters, Steve. You have nothing to worry about. Tony is quite enamored by you.” Pepper inspected a white shirt, the only one Steve owned. She frowned at a small hole near the cuff.  
  
Steve sat down hard on the bed, barely missing the pants. “He is?” he croaked.  
  
Pepper cocked one eyebrow at him. “You sound surprised. Of course Tony is enamored with you. It’s not every day that someone takes in an injured vampire and nurses them back to health. You let him feed off of you, for heaven’s sake. At the very least, he and his house owe you a blood debt. As it is, Tony thinks you are adorable and incredibly sweet and possibly hung the moon.” Steve gave her a slow blink, stunned. “Are you alright? I didn’t break you, did I? Tony will be very displeased if I did.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Steve muttered. His skin prickled hot and cold as Pepper gave him a disbelieving look and went back to inspecting his limited clothing choices. Steve stared at the nice, safe blank wall. The priest had accepted that he was fascinated by Tony. He had accepted that the vampire was unlike any other person – being – whatever – that Steve had ever met. He had even, more or less, accepted that he was attracted to the other man. Steve was protective and possessive and just generally infatuated by Tony, all the way from his cool skin to his beautiful eyes, be they red or a deep rich brown. He never imagined that his fumbling, confusing, and utterly unadvisable feelings might be in any way shared by Tony.  
  
Steve started as Pepper waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. “You have the silliest smile on your face.”  
  
“I’m fine!” squeaked Steve, his head nodded like it was on a spring.  
  
“If you say so,” Pepper said. “Now, do you have a needle and thread? If I mend this hole, then this shirt will work just fine.”  
  
“Oh.” Right, dinner. Dinner at the mansion with Tony. In a mended shirt. Steve cringed but leaned over to open his bedside table and pull out his sewing kit. “I can do it,” he begged, reaching for the shirt.  
  
Pepper twitched it away and pulled the sewing kit out of his hands. “I’m sure you could. I can do it better.” She pulled what she needed from the kit, threaded the needle quicker than Steve ever had a hope of doing so, and was working on the hole before Steve could protest again. In short order she was done and laid the shirt on the bed. Steve couldn’t even see where the mend was, the stitches were so tiny. “Vampire trick,” Pepper said, her mouth quirking. Steve blushed; of course Tony would tell her about that. “Go wash,” she ordered. “Tony is looking forward to giving you a tour of the mansion when we arrive.”  
  
Steve swallowed harshly and leapt up to hurry to the washroom to clean himself up. He wondered if he had time to shave. He wanted to look his absolute best.


	10. To Paint a Pretty Picture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Johannes Vermeer painted The Girl with a Pearl Earring. It’s always been one of my favorite paintings. People have been asking about the time period for this story and I have to say that I’m mostly making this up as I go but I’d say we’re solidly in the 20th century, Edwardian era and after, 1910 to World War 1 with a healthy dose of steampunk thrown in for flavor. Stark Manor is lit with electricity and City Hall has a mix of gas and electric power. Of course, this is Tony we are talking about, so there is going to be a lot of special technology around. It’s just a big mess held together with some chewed gum and wishful thinking.

Steve dressed in his semi-new pants and mended shirt. Lady Potts – darn it, he meant Pepper -  had been busy while Steve was in the washroom and had ironed his clothing and brushed off his best pair of shoes and his good jacket. It certainly wasn’t the most stylish of ensembles but it was the best he could do. Pepper looked him over critically, tugging sharply to settle his jacket correctly on his shoulders. Steve shifted nervously. Pepper gave him a smile and a nod. “Well, I can see Tony was at least not exaggerating about your looks. You are very handsome.”  
  
Steve turned red, mortified and surprised. “I...what?”  
  
Pepper laughed. “I think Tony was not exaggerating about you at all. You are precious.” Steve gaped at the lady vampire dumbly. Pepper picked up a fancy silver pendant that hung around her neck and clicked it open, revealing a small watch. “Oh, we better go. Tony will be impatient if we are late and my brother will worry. Come along now.” She herded Steve out of the dormitory and through the sanctuary. Steve closed up the church, leaving a tiny note pined to the front doors saying he was gone for the evening. Pepper paused and fished around in the tiny blue bag she had with her, squinting in the afternoon sunlight, and pulled out a pair of darkened glasses that she placed on her face with a relieved sigh. She caught Steve staring as they crossed the yard and tapped the spectacles with a fingertip. “Helps with the light sensitivity. Tony made them,” she explained.  
  
Steve nodded in understanding. Tony had said that sunlight was merely an irritant to healthy vampires. The sunlight must hurt their eyes then. The black carriage was waiting on the road. The driver hopped down as they approached. “About time. I thought you were going to be in there forever,” he said, yanking open the door. Steve blinked at the man, surprised by his tone and manners. A driver did not speak like that to a lady, in his experience.  
  
“Oh, like you weren’t napping out here like some pleased puppy,” replied Pepper, accepting the driver’s hand and allowing him to help her up into the carriage.  
  
“Yeah, but it’s me the Boss is going to whine at if you and Prince Charming get to the manor late!” He looked Steve up and down, a slightly unfriendly look on his face. “So, you’re Steve,” the driver rumbled, unimpressed.  
  
“Happy,” sighed Pepper. “Don’t be tiresome. We need to get going if we’re not to be late.” Happy let out a big snort and hopped back up onto the driver’s seat. “Get in, Steve. Before he drives off without you.” Steve scrambled into the carriage as it began to roll forward, Pepper reaching out and hauling him inside with surprising strength. Happy let out a low chuckle above them and Pepper yanked the door closed with a frustrated huff. “That man! Next he’ll be pissing on the hedges again.”  
  
“What?” squeaked Steve, fumbling onto a seat.  
  
Pepper smiled and shook her head. “Nothing. So, Steve, tell me a little about yourself. How long have you been priest to the Brooklyn parish?”  
  
And Steve thought having the lady going through his clothing had been embarrassing. “Oh, um, since Father Murphy passed away about four years ago. He was the priest before me.”  
  
“Any hobbies? Entertaining childhood stories? Insert other prying and invasive questions as you see fit.” Pepper chuckled and Steve realized that she was joking. He chuckled himself, still feeling nervous. The carriage clattered through the city center, expertly guided by Happy through the crowded streets. City Hall rolled past in all its hulking glory.  
  
“Well, I used to draw but I have little free time to indulge the hobby anymore. As for childhood stories, there isn’t much to tell. The nuns kept a pretty tight leash on us kids,” said Steve, rubbing his sweating palms against his trousers. The carriage clattered into the nicer parts of the city.  
  
“Nuns?” Pepper asked.  
  
Steve lowered his head, face going red. “My father died on a Hunt just after I was born and my Mam died during the fever outbreak when I was young. She was a nurse. I was just a kid and was put in a home after that.”  
  
Oddly, Pepper’s face went still in response to that. She smiled mechanically. “I’m sorry for your loss. Your parents sound like very brave people.” Steve looked at her in confusion, surprised by her change in manner. “We’re almost there.” Pepper nodded toward the window. “There is Stark Manor now.”  
  
Steve leaned toward the window, looking out. The lane the carriage made its way down was clean and tree lined. In the near distance a brown stone manor house half covered in ivy rose behind a tall iron fence. The fence was curled into fantastic patterns. Iron flowers and metal animals seemed to dance along the length of the fence. A large green lawn with a curving driveway stretched beyond. The manor was four stories tall and very wide, the front crowded with large windows. The carriage rolled through the gate and up the driveway to the covered portico, purple lilac hanging from the roof. The front doors were carved with swirling patterns and inset with cut glass. Squat pots of flowering plants and green ivy flanked the entrance.  
  
The carriage stopped and Happy yanked the door open, an annoyed look on his face. “Stane’s here,” he grumbled.  
  
Pepper climbed out and looked at the large golden carriage waiting in the driveway. “Great,” she muttered. “Just what we need.” She gave Steve a strained smile as he exited the carriage. “Come along. Tony will be pleased to see you.” She grabbed Steve’s elbow and guided him forward, pushing open the wide front doors.  
  
Inside, the foyer spread out open and airy. A pair of curving marble stairs flanked each side of the foyer, rising to a wide landing above. A crystal chandelier hung in the center of the foyer, sparkling in the sunlight coming from the windows. The floors were rich wood laid in a rose pattern and a round table in the center of the room was topped with a large floral display. But Steve only had eyes for the man standing off to the right.  
  
Tony was talking briskly with another man, gesturing with his hands. His waistcoat was the color of rich butter with a red chevron pattern and gold buttons. He worn no jacket and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The other man was dressed severely in a full suit, head balding and face stern. Tony looked over as they entered and his face lit up with a smile as he saw Steve. The man he was talking with barked something and Tony turned back to him, frowning. Tony said something else, his hand swiping through the air in finality, and the other man threw his hands up in defeat. He stormed away from Tony and hurried out of the front door, never once glancing at Steve or Pepper.  
  
“Steve!” called Tony happily, practically skipping over. “I’m so glad you could make it.” Pepper stepped smoothly forward to intercept Tony as he neared them, grabbing his arm and leaning close to his ear to whisper something. Tony blinked, brown eyes just as rich as Steve remembered, and looked at Steve in confusion. “Your father was a Hunter?”  
  
“Yes,” answered Steve slowly. “Is that going to be a problem?” Hunters often got a mixed reception.  
  
“Of course not,” replied Tony with a pout. “It’s just a surprise, that’s all. Small world and all that.” He looked at Pepper. “It’s fine,” he said firmly. Pepper’s face went curiously wooden again and she gave a small nod. “Go deal with your brother. He’s stress baking again.” Pepper turned sharply and headed off through a wide door under the stairs. Tony huffed. “Honestly. First Obie comes to complain and now Pepper is in a tiff. But the day is looking much brighter now that you are here, Steve.”  
  
Steve barely heard the compliment. “Why is my father being a Hunter so surprising?”  
  
Tony winced, stepping forward to link his arm with Steve’s and guiding them out of the foyer and into a finely appointed sitting room with deep blue curtains on the wide windows and walls the color of a summer sky. “It’s nothing important, I promise. Now, how about a tour of the manor? It’s not too hot for a walk in the gardens and mine are the finest in the city.”  
  
Steve stopped, not allowing Tony’s gentle tugs to move him. “Don’t lie to me. Tell me the truth,” he demanded in a soft voice.  
  
For a second, Tony looked annoyed. Then he sighed. “It’s just…” Tony paused, discomfort crossing his features. “If your father was a Hunter when your parents had you, then he broke several very severe rules. The Guild would have had a fit if they learned of it.”  
  
“Why?” asked Steve, confused. “What does it matter if my father was a Hunter when I was born?”  
  
Tony chewed on his bottom lip, nearly distracting Steve. “You have to understand, Steve. Hunting is a very dangerous job and it’s highly probable that Hunters, including your father, are infected with at least some strain of the virus that creates the Forsaken and they take medicines to enhance their strength, agility, and endurance. Generally, Hunters don’t even take spouses let alone have children because there is no telling what can happen to their lovers or the child. Steve!” The priest felt the world spin, his legs going to jelly. All the air sucked out of the room and Steve gasped for breath in a way he hadn’t since he was a young boy and his lungs had refused to work properly. Tony hauled him to a nearby sofa and laid him down. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” the vampire said, his voice harried. “Pepper! Jarvis! Help!”  
  
Steve heard Tony’s shouting as if through a long tunnel. The top of his head felt like it had floated off somewhere. Could it be true? Had his father passed on some virus to him? Was he going to turn into a monster; into some creature that killed and fed off of blood? His pulse pounded in his ears, heart racing. The painted ceiling of the sitting room that Steve was staring up at sort of greyed out.  
  
“Steve? Hey, are you back with us?” Fingers brushed Steve’s cheek and he pulled open gritty eyes to look up at Tony. The vampire looked down at him in concern, removing a cool cloth from Steve’s forehead and handing it off to someone else. Steve found he was laid out on a sofa, his jacket gone and the top few buttons of his shirt undone. His head lay in Tony’s lap, the vampire running his fingers soothingly through Steve’s hair. “That’s right,” murmured Tony. “Just take some deep breaths and calm down. You’re fine.” Pepper was seated nearby, a worried look on her face. An older gentleman in a black suit rang out the cloth and handed it back to Tony.  
  
“I...” Steve croaked as Tony wiped gently at the delicate skin under his eyes.  
  
“Hush. Give yourself a moment,” chided Tony. He laid the cloth back over Steve’s forehead, striving off a headache.  
  
“You had a little panic attack,” Pepper explained softly.  
  
He looked up at Tony with desperation. “Am I going to turn into a monster, like the Forsaken?”  
  
Tony eyes widened. “No! Of course not, Steve!” He cupped Steve’s cheek with his palm and smiled down at him. “You are perfectly fine. I would have known the instant I fed on your blood if something were wrong. You’re human, Steve. I swear to you.” Steve felt his chest expand fully, suddenly able to breathe. He went limp with relief. He was fine. Perfectly fine. He believed Tony when he said he was fine. “Better?” Tony asked.  
  
“Um.” Steve was suddenly very aware of where his head was resting and hauled himself up to sit properly on the sofa, his head spinning a little. Tony pouted at him, handing the cloth to the older gentlemen again. “I’m fine now. Sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me.” Steve fixed up his shirt collar, which seemed to only make Tony pout harder. He spied his jacket over the arm of the sofa and pulled it on, feeling odd about not being properly dressed in front of Tony and Pepper.  
  
“You’ve had a big shock,” said the older gentleman with a small smile. “It’s understandable. Think nothing of it.”  
  
Steve rubbed his palms against his thighs and gave a nervous smile. “Oh, um, thank you, Mr…?”  
  
“This is Jarvis,” answered Tony. “My not-a-real butler and not-a-real nanny. No matter what delusions he continues to believe.” He gave the older gentleman a playful glare.  
  
Steve’s confusion must have shown plainly on his face. “Jarvis is my little brother,” clarified Pepper softly, a slight bitterness coloring her tone.  
  
Tony leaned against Steve’s shoulder. “Remember when I said Pepper’s little brother managed to survive by crawling into a hole when the Forsaken attacked their farm?” Steve nodded. “That was many years ago. That little boy is all grown up now.” Tony’s voice was soft with sadness.  
  
“Oh.” Steve looked up at the lined face and gray hair. Jarvis looked old enough to possibly be Pepper’s father, not her younger brother. “Then, you’re still human?”  
  
“Not for lack of offers to the contrary,” grumbled Tony.  
  
“Immortality is not for me, Anthony,” Jarvis replied, setting the bowl of water and used cloth on a tray. Pepper stared down at her lap.  
  
“Instead, you dust the furniture and make too many scones despite the fact that I routinely tell you not to. You are not my butler.”  
  
“You love my scones. Would you and your friend like tea?”  
  
Tony sighed tiredly. “Yes, please. On the patio, if it’s not too much trouble. And for heaven’s sake, have Cook carry the tray.” Pepper got up and quietly left.  
  
“Very good,” replied Jarvis, still smiling softly. “It was good to meet you, Father Rogers. I hope you enjoy your visit.”  
  
“Oh. Thank you. I think I will.” Steve watched the older gentleman leave the sitting room. He looked down at Tony. “You offered to make Jarvis into a vampire?” Steve asked, not sure if he approved or disapproved.  
  
Tony stood with a frustrated sound, walking to a window to look out at the lawn with arms folded across his chest. “Of course I offered. Pepper and Jarvis are the only surviving members of their family. Pepper could live forever. Jarvis will die soon. He has grown old and time is against him now more than ever. But if I turned him even now, the aches of old age would disappear and he would know the strength and health of an immortal vampire. But he refuses. He always says immortality is not for him.” A deep sadness colored Tony’s tone. “So, Pepper watches her little brother slowly die and feels that she has betrayed him by cheating death and Jarvis feels like he is abandoning his sister by remaining human.”  
  
“If they both feel so bad about it, then why doesn’t Jarvis just allow himself to be turned into a vampire?” asked Steve, feeling nauseous. There was an instinctive revulsion to the idea of asking to be turned into a vampire but if it meant Jarvis and Pepper, the last family each other had, could remain together then it seemed, not acceptable, but at least more understandable.  
  
“I don’t know,” Tony replied, turning to look at Steve. “When he was a child he wanted to be turned, practically demanded it, but I refused. I wasn’t going to do any such thing until Jarvis was an adult. But when he turned 20 years of age he stopped talking about it and when I offered to turn him when he reached 25 years of age he refused and has refused ever since. I have no idea what changed his mind. He and Pepper had a huge argument about it at the time but he’s yet to reconsider.”  
  
“I’m sorry. You must be very sad about him refusing. You raised him, didn’t you?” asked Steve softly. If Jarvis had been just a boy when his family died, then Steve thought he would have grown up with Pepper and Tony.  
  
Tony’s shoulders tightened and he looked away without answering. “Not actually my butler, the little brat,” the vampire muttered. He left the window and gave Steve a small tight smile. “This is not the pleasant afternoon I envisioned when I invited you here. I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Steve said, rubbing at his forehead. “It wasn’t what I expected either.” It never was when Tony was involved.  
  
“Do you still want that tour? The gardens really are lovely.”  
  
Steve huffed a chuckle, smiling lopsidedly. “Sure. A tour sounds safe enough.” He pushed himself up to his feet, testing his balance and finding himself steady enough.  
  
“Oh, now you’ve jinxed us,” teased Tony. He stepped forward and linked his arm with Steve’s again, smiling up at him. “There’s no telling what will happen now.” He gestured around the sitting room with his free hand. “This is, of course, the Blue Room.”  
  
“You don’t say,” Steve said drily, glancing down at the blue sofa he had woken up on.  
  
“I know. It’s shocking.” Tony tugged on Steve’s arm and the priest followed him across the sitting room to another door. “This is the Game Room.” Inside was a large card table, littered with the debris of a game, a long bar along the far wall, and a billiards table in the center. On the green felt top, a large long haired grey cat was pushing a cue ball around, pawing it along the edge until it dropped into a pocket. The cat stuck his head in the hole and gave a plaintive meow after the ball. “And that is Dummy, champion protector of mice everywhere, who is not supposed to be up there.” Tony let go of Steve and went to pick the feline up, pulling his head out of the pocket like a cork from a bottle. The cat went limp and Tony turned him over, cradling Dummy in his arms like a baby. Tony rubbed at his tummy and the cat began to purr.  
  
“You call your pet Dummy? And what do you mean by champion protector of mice everywhere?” asked Steve, coming forward to pet at the cat’s head.  
  
“Pepper found Dummy hiding from some dogs and brought him back. Cook was beside herself but Pepper said that the kitten would be a good mouser. The little beast was allowed to stay but by the time they both realized that Dummy was actually protecting the mice they thought he was getting rid of, it was too late. He’d wormed his way into their hearts.” The cat’s fuzzy paws stuck up in the air, his body seeming to spread in Tony’s arms like melting butter.  
  
“That’s funny,” said Steve, rubbing at Dummy’s ears. He thought that Pepper and Cook’s hearts weren’t the only ones the feline had wormed his way into.  
  
“You won’t think that the first time he brings you a live mouse as a gift, especially when you are sleeping in your bed,” said Tony wryly. Steve chuckled. Tony glanced around. “The other misfits appear to be somewhere else. Butterfingers actually runs from mice, he’s so scared of them, and You doesn’t know what to do with a mouse even if he manages to catch one. All three are utterly useless.” Tony laid a finger along Dummy’s nose and pushed his head down. Sleepy golden eyes looked up at Tony. “Stay off the furniture,” the vampire said sternly. He then poured Dummy into a basket under the sunny window. “Would you like to see the library? Jarvis should have the tea ready by now.”  
  
Steve brightened. “You have a library?”  
  
Tony chuckled, grabbed Steve’s arm and leading him to another door. “I live in a stupidly large manor house, Steve. Of course I have a library.” The hallway was long and wide, a red carpet stretched down the middle. It was lit by a series of small sparkling electric chandeliers and walls sconces. The walls were covered in paintings. Tony pointed to the left. “Down there is the dining room and the kitchen, the domain of Cook. The library is this way.” The vampire pulled the priest to the right, Tony’s hand sliding down Steve’s arm until their fingers slipped together.  
  
Steve blushed as Tony’s fingers threaded through his, looking away. He’s attention was caught by the paintings on the wall, missing Tony’s little smirk. Steve had always enjoyed the arts, even if he didn’t have time to indulge in his hobby now that he had the church to take care of. The portrait of a young woman caught his eye and Steve slowed to give it a better look. Tony let himself be pulled to a stop, brown gaze jumping from Steve’s enthralled face to the painting. The background was dark but the woman herself was full of color. Her long dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, half pinned up with a jeweled comb. She wore a dark red dress with gold stitching and a tiny, secretive smile. “This is an excellent painting,” Steve muttered. “Done in the Vermeer style, right?”  
  
“Considering Johannes Vermeer painted it, I should say so,” replied Tony.  
  
Steve gave him a surprised look. “So old. It’s in remarkable condition.” Tony shrugged, as if it were nothing. “Who is she? Some ancestor of yours?”  
  
“That is Maria Stark, my mother.”  
  
“Your mother?” exclaimed Steve. Tony chuckled and nodded. “But Johannes Vermeer has been dead for over 200 years. How can you say he painted your mother?” And then realization slid over Steve face and he looked back up at the painting in astonishment. “How old can vampires grow?”  
  
“We don’t use the word immortality lightly, Steve,” Tony said gently. “We can be killed but we do not age or sicken like humans. As long as a vampire feeds as they are supposed to, they could potentially live forever. My mother is over 700 years old in this painting.”  
  
“Over 700 years old,” echoed Steve, bemused. He looked down at Tony and stared at him hard. “And how old are you really?” Tony looked down and away and Steve realized he was being unbelievably rude. “I’m sorry, I’m being unforgivably nosy.”  
  
“I’m 237. Don’t you dare make an infant joke!” Tony scowled up at him.  
  
“An infant joke? At 237?” exclaimed Steve.  
  
Tony’s face cleared a little. “No, I’m sorry. Obie always makes a blasted infant joke when age comes up. I should have known you’d never be that cruel.” Tony shook his head, looking up at the painting. “I was just a tiny child when this painting was created. I can vaguely remember being confused and angry because Mother wouldn’t pick me up no matter how much I demanded. I didn’t understand she was sitting for a painting. I was an utter terror. I think I threw something at the poor man.” Tony chuckled. “Vermeer must have thought I was a little demon.”  
  
“You kind of are a little demon,” said Steve distractedly as he stared up at the painting of Maria Stark. He blinked as his brain caught up with his mouth and looked down into Tony’s surprised face. “Oh, Good Lord. I’m so sorry, Tony. I did not mean what I said at all!” The priest’s face burned with shame.  
  
A grin bloomed across Tony’s face. “Did you just make a joke? About me being a vampire?” He laughed. “You did! I can’t believe it! You utter treasure you!” Tony stood on his toes to press a quick, light as air kiss to Steve cheek, still chuckling. “Little demon, indeed! Come, if we wait any longer than the tea will be cold and Jarvis will be quite cross with me.” Tony linked his arm with Steve’s again and led him down the hallway. Steve stumbled after him, his free hand drifting up to touch the cheek Tony had kissed, a bemused look on his face.


	11. Brittle Paper and Old Leather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m about to get some Beauty and the Beast up in here. Yes, this makes Steve Belle. No, love won’t turn Tony human.
> 
> And I'm so sorry this took so long to get up! I'll be working on it for NaNoWriMo, so hopefully I'll make good progress.

Tony curled his hand around Steve’s elbow and pulled them to a stop in front of twin doors richly carved in a twisting vine pattern, birds and animal faces peeking out from behind foliage. The vampire smiled up at Steve, who quickly dropped his hand from the cheek Tony had just kissed, trying to school his features away from what the priest was sure was a dumbfounded expression. Tony’s smile widened, brown eyes sparkling, and reached over to push open the doors. “May I present to you, my dear Steve, the Stark Manor library!”  
  
Sunlight spilled out of the open doorway, overly bright after the electric lights of the hallway. Tony gave Steve a gentle push forward and Steve stepped into the huge room, his gaze sweeping up and up. It seemed the library occupied all four stories of the manor house and the shelves of books stretched up to a ceiling painted with the celestial zodiac. A balcony ran around three walls, bisecting the library into two levels. The fourth wall was filled with windows that overlooked a green lawn and then a manicured hedge maze. Comfortable sofas and armchairs dotted the library floor in small groups, books scattered around in various stages of being read. There must have been thousands upon thousands of books. Through some French doors Steve could see a table set up on the patio with a tea service and a tray of sweets over which Jarvis was fussing.  
  
“This isn’t all of it, of course,” Tony was saying, pulling Steve’s stunned attention back to the dark haired man. “A good portion of the Stark collection is on loan to the University Library and the City Archives. Mother always stressed how important it was to share and all that.”  
  
“Of course,” Steve agreed faintly.  
  
“What do you like to read?” Tony asked curiously. “We have a little bit of everything.”  
  
“Oh. Um,” stuttered Steve. “Mostly just scripture and adventure novels, when I can get them. I don’t have time for much else.” Or the money for it.  
  
Tony smiled and went over to a nearby couch to fuss with a pillow. “I like a good adventure novel. Pepper absolutely adores romance; although I know she’ll indulge in a horror thriller if she’s in the mood. Shhh. Don’t tell her I know. She thinks it’s unladylike or some such nonsense. This is Butterfingers.” Tony presented the pillow to Steve and he blinked in confusion before the pillow meowed in annoyance and unwound into an orange tabby cat. “Poor Butterfingers,” said Tony mournfully. “He keeps trying to become a sofa cushion but, alas, never seems to be able to do it quite right. Although the maids keep trying to fluff him when they clean, so I guess he’s making headway into being a throw pillow.” Steve couldn’t help himself; he laughed. Tony smiled at him. “That’s better. I like it better when you smile and laugh, Steve.” The priest felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment but continued to chuckle. Tony lifted Butterfingers up a little more. “Say hi.”  
  
“Hello, Master Butterfingers,” Steve dutifully said, shaking one of the cat’s paws. The feline meowed and licked his nose.  
  
“Oh, now it’s Master Butterfingers, is it? You’re coming up in the world, cat. Next you’ll be lord of the manor and I’ll be the one sunning myself on the furniture,” complained Tony. Steve’s smile went a little crooked at the suggestion of Tony stretched out like some contented animal in a sunbeam. Tony didn’t seem to notice as he lowered his head to forehead butt Butterfingers. “Stay off the furniture, beast,” scolded Tony lightly. He dropped the feline onto a large pillow on the floor right in front of the windows and Butterfingers curled up on it with a huff.  
  
“Sir? The tea is ready,” Jarvis announced pointedly.  
  
“Yes, tea!” exclaimed Tony with a grin. “Jarvis’ scones really are the best. You must have some, Steve.” He grabbed Steve’s arm and dragged him out onto the sunny patio. Tony stumbled to a stop next to the chairs, patting at his pockets and squinting in the bright light. “Damnation,” the vampire muttered. Concerned, Steve put his hand out to shade Tony’s eyes without thinking. His brown eyes looked kind of watery as Tony blinked up at Steve. “I think I left my glasses in the house,” he whined.  
  
“Father Rogers?” called Jarvis. “If you could provide some assistance?” Steve looked over to find the older man tugging at an umbrella stand. Tony shut his eyes and flapped a hand at Steve. The priest hurried over, taking the stand out of Jarvis’ hands and dragging it over to the table. He fiddled with the catch and soon had the umbrella open and shading the patio.  
  
Tony blinked his eyes open, twin tears running down his cheeks. He wiped them away quickly and grinned. “How annoying,” he said cheerfully. “I really must start keeping more sunglasses around the house.”  
  
“You do,” said Jarvis drily. “You can just never find them again.” He picked up the teapot and began to pour tea into two blue china cups.  
  
“Thank you, Jarvis,” Tony said a touch testily. He tugged the teapot away from the older man. “I’ll serve us. Why don’t you go find a warm place to take a nap?”  
  
“Of course, sir,” said Jarvis, amusement thick in his voice. He disappeared into the library.  
  
Tony rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Mark my words, 20 minutes from now he’ll have either found something to polish or fallen asleep in the kitchen in front of the fire.”  
  
“Are you ok?” asked Steve. The vampire’s eyes still looked a little red and irritated to him.  
  
Tony smiled and gestured to the other chair. “I’m fine. Sit. How do you take your tea? Sugar? Cream?” There was a loud meow from inside the library. “No, not you! Go back to sleep Butterfingers. No cream for you, you glutton,” called Tony.  
  
Steve chuckled. “Sugar would be good. Thank you.” Tony dropped a sugar cube into the teacup with a pair of silver tongs and then gently set it down in front of Steve. The priest picked up a tiny golden spoon and tried to stir the tea without clicking the spoon against the sides of the teacup. His mother has said it was rude and annoying time and time again when he was a child. He tried to remember if he should place the elegantly folded linen napkin on the table in his lap or if that was considered ill-mannered as well.  
  
“Please relax, Steve. If you get any tenser I’m afraid you’ll crack,” pleaded Tony, adding three sugar cubes to his tea. He picked up his own little golden spoon and rattled it around his teacup like a dinner bell, licked it, and set it down on the white tablecloth, staining that spot brown.  
  
Steve blinked. “I’m trying to act proper and not make a fool of myself.”  
  
Tony hooked the handle of a three tiered dessert tray with his fingertips and brought it closer to them. “Proper? What’s proper? Doilies and soup spoons and salad forks. Puh! I’d rather you relaxed. I could care less which hand you use to hold your utensils with. Do you like apricot?” Steve found himself smiling helplessly. Of course Tony wouldn’t care about his table manners. Tony would think it silly and trivial. The more time Steve spent with Tony the more he found himself fascinated and enraptured with the vampire. “Steve?” The priest focused, dragging himself away from staring at Tony’s mouth. The dark haired man gave Steve a confused smile.  
  
“What?” asked Steve, having lost the thread of conversation.  
  
“Apricot,” repeated Tony, “do you like it? There is also blueberry, if you prefer. Both are really very good.”  
  
Steve dropped his gaze to the dessert tray in confusion. “Oh, the scones!” he exclaimed, it dawning on him what Tony was asking.  
  
“Yes, the scones. My, that must have been a very interesting thought to hold your attention like that,” teased Tony. Steve flushed, taking a sip of his tea to hide behind. The vampire did not need to know that the interesting thought had been purely about him. “And now you are blushing!” Tony exclaimed, laughing. “One would think you were having very naughty thoughts indeed with a blush like that.”  
  
Shame drifted across Steve’s face. Did he know? How could he know? Had Steve done something to give himself away? “My lord, I would never…! It would never cross my mind to…! I would never be so rude and I am a man of the cloth!” he blustered, face paling. His hand shook as he set his teacup back on its saucer, the china rattling.  
  
Tony’s smile dropped away and he reached out to grab Steve’s forearm. “Steve, calm down! I was only teasing, I swear. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He leaned forward and rubbed at Steve’s arm, brown eyes concerned. “I’m so sorry. Pepper is always saying I could insult the fleas off a stray dog. Please forgive me?”  
  
Steve felt like he could suddenly breathe again. Tony was just being his usual self, then. A little overly familiar, a little overly friendly with other people but nothing really meant by it. The vampire didn’t know. If the priest had his way, Tony would never know. Steve knew that his budding feelings and attraction for the lord were unadvisable in so many ways. It was just…very hard to sometimes remember that when Tony was smiling at him. Steve drudged up his own smile for his friend. Tony still looked worried. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted so harshly. I don’t know what came over me.”  
  
“Are you feeling ok?” demanded Tony, shifting forward to perch on the edge of his chair and subsequently bringing himself that much closer to the other man. “You’re not ill, are you?” Tony reached up and placed the back of his hand delicately on Steve’s forehead. Steve blinked in surprise and froze as Tony’s hand drifted down to touch his cheek. “You don’t feel overly warm,” the vampire said, pursing his lips. He dropped his hand to Steve’s shoulder and leaned in even closer, scrutinizing Steve’s face. “You do look a little tired, though. You’ve been through a lot lately, Steve. You mustn’t let yourself get overly tired and fall ill. I shall be most upset if you catch a fever.” Tony looked concerned and worried again, his fingers lifting to brush over Steve’s cheek again. “Promise me you’ll rest more?”  
  
Steve nodded. “I promise I’ll rest more,” he said, his chest growing tight. He almost felt as if he were going to have an asthma attack, although that hadn’t happened since he was a young teen.  
  
Tony smiled, still leaning close. “Thank you,” he replied. He squeezed Steve’s shoulder and forearm. Steve’s head began to dip down, as if pulled by a heavy weight. His gaze dropped from Tony’s eyes to his lips of their own accord, the scent of sandalwood filling his nose as he drifted closer. Steve felt out of control and dazed, his mind foggy. Tony’s smile softened and he tilted his chin slightly up. “Steve?” he asked softly. Steve blinked and paused, aware of hanging on a precipice and unsure if he wanted to fall over; unsure if he should allow himself to fall over.  
  
A sharp loud barking sounded and they jerked apart. Steve fell back in his chair as Tony stood. At first Steve felt relief at the interruption but then the loud barking came again and fear ran cold through his blood. He thought of the hellhounds that had circled the church while he and Tony had huddled inside, the vampire still injured.  
  
“Oh, I am going to have him neutered!” growled Tony, stomping one foot. “With a rusty kitchen knife too!”  
  
“What is it?” asked Steve, slightly breathless. He didn’t know if it was from fear or the almost kiss. “Hellhounds?” he squeaked.  
  
Tony blinked down at him in surprise. “Oh no, Steve. It’s okay. We’re safe here,” reassured Tony. “Hellhounds can’t be out in sunlight and anything else would have a hard time coming onto my property. We’re protected here. It’s just Happy running the dogs.” The dark haired man gave an irritated flap of his hand toward the lawn and Steve looked over to see about half a dozen sprinting shapes flying across the green, excited yips and yaps filling the air. Tony sat back down in his chair with a disgruntled air. “Which he is doing early today, the bastard,” the vampire muttered, taking a scowling sip of his tea.  
  
The group of canines raced across the lawn, slightly curving their direction toward the house. “Um, are they friendly?” Steve asked, concerned as their path neared the patio.  
  
“Exceedingly. I hope you don’t mind being enthusiastically licked,” Tony replied. Steve stared at him but Tony was watching the pack approach. Did everything the vampire say have to be so suggestive sounding or was Steve’s mind really that dirty?  The first of the dogs clattered onto the stone of the patio and Steve tensed, preparing to be jumped all over. “Sit!” snapped Tony. Furry butts hit the floor, tails wagging excitedly and pink tongues lolling out between sharp fangs. “Good. Good,” praised Tony. He then clicked his tongue and the dogs trotted sedately forward. Some surrounded Tony’s chair while others began sniffing around Steve.  
  
“Hello,” Steve said cautiously as a fluffy brown dog licked at his fingers. A cream colored dog set their front paws on the arm of the chair and sniffed at Steve’s shoulder. Steve gave them some wary looks, finding himself to be rather ambivalent about dogs after having seen the hellhounds.  
  
“No, Beatrice, down! Steve is a friend. Be polite,” ordered Tony. The cream colored dog dropped down to all four paws and panted happily up at Steve. A sleek silver dog sat next to Tony’s chair and he reached down to stroke along the narrow head and graceful neck. “Hello, Athena. How is my pretty girl doing? Are you keeping all these ragamuffins in line?” The dog whined and shoved her nose into Tony’s palm. “Yes, yes, I know. Enough talk, more treats. Greedy things.” Tony reached over to the scone sitting on the delicate plate in front of him and crumbled it up. Athena licked up the morsel he offered her in a flash. A big dark shaggy dog, easily a head taller than the other dogs, whined and pawed at Tony’s knee. The vampire glared down at him. “None for you, fiend. You and I are going to have words later. Your behavior is unacceptable and you know it.” The big dog slunk under the table, tail tucked between his legs.  
  
Steve glanced under the table, feeling sorry for the dog, but the canine only glared back at him resentfully with huge yellow eyes. There was a hiss behind them followed by a yelp and Steve turned to find Butterfingers facing down a fawn colored dog with white paws that had wandered over to his pillow, the feline puffed up to twice his usual size. Butterfingers swiped again at the dog’s nose and the dog retreated back across the patio. It attempted to wedge itself behind Tony’s knees, whining pitifully. “Stop it, Bosco. You’re not a puppy anymore and much too big to be doing that. You know to leave the cats alone. Let me see your nose,” said Tony. The vampire cupped the dog’s chin in his hand and studied his black nose for scratches. “Oh you’re fine, you big baby.” Tony rubbed down Bosco’s chest and fed him a hunk of scone.  
  
Steve broke apart his own scone and fed it to the dogs currently staring up at him with big soulful eyes. The cream colored dog hopped back up and attacked his face with happy licks. “Beatrice, no. Down,” chuckled Steve, pushing the dog away with his arm. Okay, so not all dogs were bad. He glanced back at the dog lurking under the table and held out a piece of scone. “Do you want some, boy? It’s good,” Steve coaxed. The dog gave a huff and turned his head away.  
  
“That is an exercise in futility if I ever saw one, Steve. Don’t bother, he’s deep into his sulking right now,” said Tony, rubbing at the ears of a long faced black and tan dog. He clapped his hands, which made all the dogs perk up. “Alright, mutts. Time to go. Shoo. Go run and chase each other and whatever else dogs do that makes them happy. Except dig in the flower beds. Stay out of the flower beds.” Tony let out two short whistles and pointed out toward the lawn. The dogs stood and flowed forward as one, racing off the patio and galloping across the green. The big dark shaggy dog bumped the table as he left, making everything on top rattle, and Tony grabbed for his teacup before it could roll off. “Brat! Don’t make me get the hose!” shouted the vampire. The dog bayed loudly and ran off with the rest of the pack. Tony sighed and righted his cup, grabbing his napkin to wipe the spilled tea off his hand.  
  
“Those are some interesting dogs you keep, Tony,” said Steve. They were not exactly what Steve thought a lord would keep. Mostly he imagined dark coated hunting dogs.  
  
“They’re mutts, all of them,” Tony said with a snort. “Happy keeps bringing strays home and then whines incessantly if I don’t let him keep them. Worse than Pepper was with the cats. At least she stopped after three. I feel like I’m running an animal rescue.”  
  
“Where is Happy?” asked Steve. He couldn’t see the driver anywhere out on the lawn.  
  
Tony glanced at where the pack of dogs was running out near what was either a small lake or a very large pond. “He must be waiting at the kennel,” Tony said dismissively. “The property is completely fenced. The dogs will be fine.” He picked up the teapot and poured some more tea into their cups. “Here, take another scone. Hopefully you’ll get to actually eat this one.”  
  
Steve chuckled and quickly took a bite. “It’s good,” he praised after swallowing. The top was sprinkled with a layer of crispy sugar, probably in deference to the vampire’s love of sweets.  
  
“Jarvis will be pleased you think so. Especially since he’s lurking in the library even though I told him to go rest somewhere!” Tony called back over his shoulder, turning his head to glare at the French doors. “I can hear your heartbeat, Jarvis. It’s quite impossible to hide from me.”  
  
The older man stepped out onto the patio, his face bland. “I merely wanted to see if you or Father Rogers required anything, sir?”  
  
“We’re fine, Jarvis,” replied Tony with a sigh. “Did Cook kick you out of the kitchen again? I told her not to overdo it just because we’re having a guest for dinner. She always insists on doing something special.”  
  
“I have no idea what you are talking about, sir,” said Jarvis calmly, although Steve noticed a small muscle above his eye twitch once. “I also wanted to suggest that Father Rogers might be interested in the Stark collection of Saint’s letters.”  
  
Steve swallowed his mouthful of tea before he could choke on it. “You have Saint’s letters?” he asked, unable to hide the excited tone to his voice.  
  
“My mother was a ferocious collector. I think we have a little bit of everything and a lot of most things,” Tony said with a thoughtful frown. He looked at Jarvis. “Are any of the Saint Paul letters here or are those all at the City Archive?” Steve felt a little thrill shoot through him. Letters from Saint Paul weren’t even displayed to the public and it took a lot of influence to get the chance to study them, influence that Steve could not hope to have being the priest of just a small city parish.  
  
Jarvis nodded. “I believe we have some here, sir, as well as most of the Saint Augustine and the Saint Bernard collections as well. There are other correspondent collections of lesser church members available that might also interest Father Rogers.”  
  
Tony hummed, taking a sip of tea and seemingly not noticing Steve tense form sitting next to him. Finally, the vampire smiled. “Would you like to see the collection, Steve?” Tony asked with a mischievous smirk.  
  
“Yes!” Steve said excitedly, just short of shouting.  
  
Tony chuckled at him. “Have a case or two brought up from the vaults, Jarvis. Something you think Steve would be interested in,” he instructed the older man.  
  
Jarvis bowed his head a little. “Of course, sir.”  
  
“And don’t try to lift the cases yourself,” Tony called to his retreating back. “Have one of the others do it. I know Peter is lurking somewhere down in the lab. Have him do it.” The dark haired man huffed as Jarvis gave him an acknowledging nod before disappearing out of the library. “Pepper will be so mad if he tries to lift one of those storage cases himself,” muttered Tony, drinking the last of his tea.  
  
“It seems as if Jarvis is trying his best to be of use to you,” Steve said cautiously, aware it wasn’t his place to comment on Tony’s household.  
  
Tony sighed. “I think he feels indebted to me or something, for both saving his sister and providing them both with a home. I don’t need Jarvis to be a butler. I have a house staff. I pay them very handsomely to make sure the house is taken care of and doesn’t turn into a pigsty. Somehow they all take orders from Jarvis and Pepper now. Not that I care. Lord knows I have better things to do then keep track of who’s turn it is to dust the upper floors or when the rugs were last cleaned. But they’re not here to keep track of that either. Did you know I have regular arguments about Jarvis and Pepper even getting paid? It’s like they are trying to work for free or some such nonsense. I don’t understand it.” Tony set his teacup down on its saucer with a clatter, frustration clear on his face.  
  
“I think,” Steve said hesitantly, “that it’s more of a desire to make sure you are taken care of, rather than just the house.”  
  
“I don’t need a bloody nanny. I…” Tony cut himself off, looking toward the door to the library. Steve heard the squeak of wheels and then a cart was pushed into the room by a gangly young man with barely tamed brown hair.  
  
Jarvis came in behind the cart and pointed to a long table. “If you could transfer the cases onto the table, Mr. Parker, I would be grateful.”  
  
“Sure thing, Mr. J,” replied the young man, pushing the cart over to the table and transferring the cases onto it. Jarvis held back a cringe as the cases scratched the wooden surface.  
  
Tony dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and then threw the linen onto the table. “Come,” he said to Steve, standing. “Let’s see what goodies we can find for you to examine.” Steve did likewise with his napkin and then followed Tony back into the library. “Peter! You are getting what I truly hope is just soot all over the rug,” Tony called mock sternly.  
  
The young man grinned, wearing a loose shirt and indeed tracking some sort of black dirt on the floor from his boots. “We can call it soot if that makes you feel better,” teased Peter, rubbing at his nose and leaving behind a streak of black.  
  
Tony gave a long suffering sigh. “I suppose you are making an utter mess of my laboratory as well?”  
  
“Just a small mess, Tony. Promise!” Bright brown eyes drifted over to Steve and the priest found himself unable to resist the infectious nature of the boy’s grin. “Evening, sir,” Peter said, vowels loose and dropping the ‘g’.  
  
“Good evening,” replied Steve.  
  
“You the religious man that saved Tony?” demanded the young man.  
  
“Peter,” singsonged Tony disapprovingly.   
  
“I just want to know,” Peter said defensively.  
  
“It’s alright,” soothed Steve. He smiled at Peter. “I am.”  
  
Peter grinned huge and rubbed at his nose again, darkening the streak. “I’d shake your hand, Father, but I don’t want to mess up your cloths. All I’m going to say is that we’re all grateful for what you did for Tony. We don’t know what we’d do without him. So, thanks.” The boy shrugged, as if it was no big deal, and then turned his attention to Tony. “Can I stay for dinner?”  
  
Tony snorted but nodded. “Have Pepper send a message to your Aunt and Happy will take you home afterward.”  
  
A mulish look overtook Peter’s grin. “I can get home by myself. I don’t need Hap to take me.”  
  
“I’m well aware,” Tony replied blandly. “But I live in fear of your Aunt’s wrath and so Happy is still taking you home. Now shoo. Go back downstairs and try not to burn your eyebrows off.”  
  
Peter gasped in outrage. “That was one time and it was more Wade’s fault than it was mine!”  
  
Tony’s eyes gleamed, a predatory little smirk curling his lips. “Then you admit that Wilson was down in the laboratory when I expressly forbad that little nutjob from being anywhere near there.”  
  
Peter paled and hightailed it out of the library. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! See you at dinner! Bye!” the young man called over his shoulder, disappearing down the hallway.  
  
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and gave an amused but long suffering chuckle. “Such a bright boy. It’s a pity his best friend is an utter loon,” Tony muttered. He dropped his hand and looked at Jarvis. “Thank you, Jarvis. We should be fine for now.”  
  
Jarvis nodded and made to leave. “I’ll inform you when dinner is ready, sir.”  
  
“Go take a nap!” Tony shouted after him before turning his attention to the cases on the table.  
  
“Who was that?” asked Steve, stepped forward to peer down at the cases himself. They were marked three, four, and five with a few scribbled words under the labels that Steve could not make out.  
  
Tony hummed questioningly, fingers drifting over a numbered keypad. “Who?”  
  
“The boy? Peter Parker?”  
  
“Oh, him. Peter is a very bright young man that I’m sponsoring at the University.”  
  
Steve blinked in surprise. “He’s in University? But he’s so young.”  
  
“Like I said, a very bright young man. I let him use my laboratory so the professors won’t try to ring his neck when he inevitably makes a mess.” Tony’s fingers danced over the keypad and the case gave a beep and then a deep hiss. The lid clicked and Tony lifted it off, revealing several smaller boxes and packages wrapped in oil cloth. Tony grinned. “Let’s see if we can find something interesting to look at.”  
  
Steve peered eagerly inside, fingers itching to pull everything out and start reading. “Do you know what everything is?” he asked.  
  
“Um.” Tony cocked his head to the side and read the tag. “Correspondents from Abbey Anne and various personal letters. Well, that’s unhelpful.” He lifted out an oil cloth wrapped package and untied the laces, revealing a small book, the leather cracked with age. “I guess we’ll just have to start looking ourselves. Here.” Tony held the old book out to Steve.  
  
The priest took it gingerly. “Shouldn’t I be wearing gloves or something?” he asked hesitantly.  
  
Tony shook his head, opening boxes made of a waxy pulpy material used to keep moisture away. “Just be gentle with it. It’s fine.” Steve nodded and sat the book on the table, sitting in a chair and eagerly but carefully opening the cover, leaning forward to read the cramped handwriting.  
  
 _June 12, 1509_  
 _Abbey Anne_  
  
 _Sister Mary Clare is supervising the first harvest of the herb garden. The entire Cloister smells like rosemary…_  
  
Steve lost himself in the diary. Tony opened the other cases and got the blond some scrap paper and a pen to make notes on, chuckling at Steve’s enthralled expression. Steve gingerly turned each page, the paper was brittle and rough under his fingertips. Little notes written into the margins of the diary amused him.  
  
 _‘Three bushels of wheat from the Hale farm - $4’_  
 _‘Candles – 5 boxes’_  
 _‘Rose May used beet juice to dye her hair again.’_  
 _‘A rat was found in the granary again. Sister Phyllis suggests getting a cat.’_  
  
Steve was so engrossed that he didn’t notice as the room slowly darkened as evening advanced and Jarvis came back to turn the electric lights on, the sky outside the windows a deep blue. The priest progressed from the diary to a ledger where a Father Russell professed that George Kelly was an overcharging crook. After that was a package of pastoral letters where a single word caught Steve’s attention and sent his heart racing. Vampire. His blue eyes danced back up the page to double check the date.  
  
 _Pastor Thompson_  
 _September 1552_  
  
 _There have been reports of another sighting up near the town of Penn. That makes three this week. The farmers have taken to staking dogs around the fields as they harvest but more often than not the beasts are found torn apart as well. There has been talk of men forming an armed security force to patrol the area but Sheriff Doon said he would arrest any group roaming around armed under the mob and vigilante laws. I’ve had four families come to me wanting their ranches blessed to protect them. Six more cattle, including a bull, have been found dead, mutilated._  
  
 _Mr. Stane says it’s not the vampires and most people seem to believe him. The vampires seem to be just as mystified and afraid of what is happening as the rest of us. Haines is organizing another werewolf hunt next week. They tried to buy more guns and silver bullets from Lord Stark but it seems they have stopped making them. There has been grumbling about Lord Stark being a wolf sympathizer but he has apparently disappeared off the face of the earth and nobody has seen him since the spring. Mayor Howlett is calling for people to remain calm and not to confront any creatures they might see roaming the night. Bishop Ross says it’s only a matter of time before these creatures start killing humans._  
  
“Steve? Steve!” Steve jerked his head up from the letter, wide blue eyes staring at Tony. The vampire looked worried. “Your heart is racing like a rabbit’s, Steve. Whatever is the matter?”  
  
Steve licked dry lips. “This letter has your name in it.” He glanced down at the date again and frowned. “Well, not you really. Maybe your father?”  
  
Tony stood, setting his pencil down on what appeared to be a half-finished technical drawing, and came around the table. The vampire pulled a chair close and sat next to Steve, leaning forward and quickly reading through the letter. “Hmm,” he hummed in agreement. “Yes, my father. And Obie too, by the looks of it.”  
  
“The creature this talks about, it’s the Forsaken isn’t it?” asked Steve, setting the letter down carefully, as if it might bite.  
  
“Yes,” replied Tony solemnly. “The first vampires to be infected by the virus came from the Albany Valley area, to the north. In just a few short years, it had swept south across the York Plains and into what was then just the Manhattan Township. It was so swift and so contagious that by the beginning of the 17th century the only vampires left were the mere 5% of the population that proved to have complete immunity. The rest had fallen to the disease and become the Forsaken.”  
  
“But what did your Father and Mr. Stane have to do with it?”  
  
“What do you know about the Forsaken, Steve? Were you taught any history involving them in school?”  
  
“Not that I can remember,” Steve said slowly, thinking back. “We were taught to fear the vampires, to run and hide, to never go outside at night without a weapon. There was nothing about where the creatures came from; they were always just there, lurking in the dark.”  
  
Tony nodded a little. “I suppose four hundred years is long enough to bury the facts and they would have wanted to bury those facts as deeply as they could. It’s why old church records are so hard to find or to get permission to view.  They don’t want a clever novice to connect the dots and get talkative.” The vampire leaned back in his chair, looking slightly pained. “My Father never talked much about when the disease began to ravage the vampire population but my Mother was more forthcoming when I was finally old enough to get curious. When the attacks on the livestock and wild animals in the area began people were confused. Then the reports of large deformed beasts began to circulate and although nobody had seen the beasts kill, humans and vampires alike supposed it was the beasts killing the animals. People were afraid. Hunts for large predators began, driving many species of large wild cat out of the area. Then the hunts for werewolves began, even though the lycanthrope population was already dwindling back then. Normal wolves were hunted to extinction. It was easy for suspicion to fall to undesirable people after that. Rumors of cults began. There was a flare of witch burnings around that time. People that had always been prejudice against vampire began to claim that we weren’t obeying our own feeding laws. It fanned the flames. The hunts soon began to target vampires themselves and many went underground, choosing to hide and isolate themselves in hopes of avoiding the humans now blaming the vampires for the deaths of livestock and, as feared, other humans as well, and also trying to keep themselves safe from the spreading disease. It didn’t take very long before authorities found a vampire family half riddled with the virus, in pain and half turned into monsters, and they realized what was really happening.” Tony rubbed at his face and stood, going over to a side table and pouring himself a small glass of dark liquid from a crystal decanter.  
  
Steve glanced back down at the letter, feeling unsettled. “Was there no hope for a cure? No way to pass the immunity to others?”  
  
Tony gulped down his drink and shook his head. “No. You either already had immunity or you eventually caught the disease. Sharing blood between the two was ineffective and they simply did not have the technology to do more. Even now, tests to use our immunity to kill the Forsaken end in failure. We can devise ways to slow them, even badly injure them, but the only successful way to kill a Forsaken remains to cut off their heads.”  
  
“It’s lucky your family has immunity,” whispered Steve, swallowing down nausea.  
  
“We are lucky,” Tony said softly. “Not all families were. Both of my parents were immune and passed the trait on to me. If a child had one parent who was immune and one who was not, they had a 50/50 chance of inheriting immunity. It tore many families apart when only half their members survived or became sick. New vampires that were bitten by those immune gained their sire’s immunity but it couldn’t be passed between two already made vampires.  Now, the only ones to remain are those with the immunity.” The dark haired man sat back in the chair next to Steve, looking wan and exhausted.  
  
“And your Father and Mr. Stane?” Steve asked again tentatively.  
  
“Stark Industries has always had its fingers in many pies, Steve, including weapons manufacturing and biological research. When it became apparent that the reports of large monsters killing livestock were not just a wild fantasy or a mangy pack of wild dogs, my Father began production on weapons, mostly swords and guns with exploding rounds. Shooting a Forsaken with regular gunpowder rounds will slow them but not really stop them. Swords are best but they require a type of speed and strength to successfully use that we’ve had to specifically cultivate in the Hunters.” Tony sighed, his brown eyes dark. Steve could tell this was an uncomfortable topic for him. “When they learned that the beasts were really diseased vampires, my Father took my Mother and fled south, trying to outrun it. They didn’t know at that point about some vampires having immunity. He went to Manhattan and focused on biological research, looking for a cure or a vaccine. Obadiah Stane was and is the front man for Stark Industries. He dealt with the public while my Father worked feverishly to develop effective weapons and figure out how to combat the disease. We’re still doing that, with only middling success.”  
  
“So, the real truth about the Forsaken and vampires was buried in the past?” asked Steve.  
  
“People thought the only way to destroy the Forsaken was to destroy all the vampires, even those who proved to have immunity. Fear makes even the most rational men unreasonable. Immune vampires were so good at hiding that eventually people thought there was only the Forsaken left. That vampires had ever been anything else besides those poor monstrous beasts was forgotten by time and political maneuvering. In fact, if not for the surviving vampires, humans would have been overrun by the Forsaken long ago. My Father was instrumental in organizing and supplying the Hunters and the Guild, a tradition I keep with to this day.” Tony looked as pale as he had when Steve had found him nearly dead on the church chancel steps and his voice grew gruffer the more he spoke.  
  
Steve looked down at the letter and bit his lip. “And you’re still not able to find a cure? What about Pepper? You saved her.”  
  
“There is no cure,” Tony stressed. “The only way to stop a Forsaken is to kill them and I was only able to save Pepper because she had just been attacked. There is a very narrow window where anything might be done to save a person and after that the virus has taken too much of a hold to be dealt with. But what I did was dangerous for both her and I. Drawing the poisoned blood out of her was a painful ordeal for us both and if I had done it wrong, I would have killed her as surely as the disease. I had to keep feeding her my own blood for her first meal as there was no other clean source available and was so drained afterward that I almost couldn’t get us back to safety. We were lucky. It could have ended much differently. Most see it as a better mercy just to kill them before they finish transforming.” Tony’s voice ended in a soft whisper. He coughed and cleared his throat. “It’s rare that a Forsaken leaves those they attack intact enough that they can change into a Forsaken. Mostly victims are just torn apart and devoured. Pepper was only just alive because I had interrupted the beast at his meal.” Tony stood and paced around to the other side of the table, clearly agitated. “Have I answered your questions sufficiently?” he demanded, a hint of pleading in his voice.  
  
Steve fiddled with his pen, feeling cold. “Yes. Thank you for telling me all that,” he said sincerely, making sure to look up and meet Tony’s eyes, the blond’s jaw tightening stubbornly. It was a lot to take in and the new information swirled around in his head but he had wanted to know, to understand this new world he had gotten himself involved in, and Steve could tell it had been painful for Tony to share so much.  
  
Tony looked away, a hand reaching up rub at his forehead. “I need another drink,” he muttered, striding back over to the side table and pouring another glass of dark liquid. The vampire knocked it back in a single swallow and poured another right after.  
  
Steve looked up as there was a soft knock on the door. Jarvis stepped in, sensing the tension in the air and eyeing the two men warily. “Dinner is ready to be served, Sir.”  
  
“I believe we have both lost our appetite,” snapped Tony shortly.  
  
“No, please don’t,” said Steve. “You said Cook had been looking forward to cooking for a guest. I don’t want to disappoint her. Don’t let our conversation stop us from enjoying dinner. Please?” he coaxed.  
  
Tony gave Steve a considering look and sat the half full glass of liquor back on the side table. “It would be a shame to waste Cook’s special spiced beef and I will never hear the end of it from Pepper if I made her drag out the good table linens and then had a ‘childish fit’, as she would say.” The vampire dredged up a weak smile, although Steve was very glad to see even that. “Very well. Jarvis, we shall be there momentarily. Don’t let Peter eat all the potatoes before we arrive.”  
  
Jarvis nodded, curious gaze drifting from Tony to Steve. “I shall try, Sir,” the older man said and disappeared out into the hallway.  
  
Tony looked down at Steve and his smile curled a little more genuinely, the tension easing from around his eyes. “There is a bathroom across the hall you can use to clean yourself up in.” Steve gave him a confused blink and Tony chuckled lightly, reaching forward to rest the tips of his fingers on the back of the priest’s hand. “You are covered in ink and dust,” explained the vampire.  
  
Steve looked down at himself in surprise. His shirt was indeed covered in grey dust and bits of crumbled paper. Ink had dripped between his thumb and forefinger and smudged on his wrist. “Oh my! I didn’t even notice!” He stood up carefully, not wanting to get the ink on anything else. He hoped he hadn’t ruined any of the letters or books from the cases.  
  
“Go on,” said Tony, pushing gently on his shoulder to turn him around. “Get cleaned up and then we can eat.”  
  
“But the papers…?” Surely they would not be safe just sitting out like that, especially if there were animals about? The cats had already shown a disregard for not getting on the furniture.  
  
“I’ll have someone take care of it. Go on!” Tony urged. Steve nodded and trotted toward the hallway, inky hand held awkwardly out to the side. Behind him, Tony gave a shout of “Carol!” and then, and Steve could not be hearing this right, seemed to chirp loudly. Steve glanced over his shoulder but Tony was facing away from him, gathering up papers from the tabletop. The priest shook his head at himself because he was obviously hearing things and crossed the hallway to the bathroom to make himself presentable for dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> Because we need more vampire fic. I’ll be straight with you all now. This is something of my masterpiece and is probably going to take forever. Chapters will vary in size but I will try to post once a week, probably on the weekend. Expect every vampire cliché I can think of to appear in this story. This is not beta-read. All mistakes are my own.


End file.
